


The Trial of General Charles Lee

by Sunnyrea



Series: The War [24]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF
Genre: Court Martial, Dancing, Historical, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-23 21:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16167614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnyrea/pseuds/Sunnyrea
Summary: After the disastrous battle of Monmouth, the court-martial of Charles Lee begins in which Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens both testify, while also acting as aides-de-camp through a ball, a march, and a visit to a waterfall, before the trial's end.





	1. A Trial and A Ball

**Author's Note:**

> This story turned into a bear, what with more going on in these few weeks than anticipated. So, surprise, it is chaptered! I should also note, all of the dialog from the court scenes is pulled directly from the trial transcript (minus Lee's outburst which is 'struck from the record.')

It is July 4, 1778, just two years after their declaration of independence was signed, and now the court martial trial of General Charles Lee regarding his conduct at the Battle of Monmouth begins. Today marks the first day of the trial officially hearing testimony and questioning. Alexander Hamilton sits in a chair beside Richard Kidder Meade with John Fitzgerald on Meade’s other side. All three have been called to testify, even Fitzgerald who was wounded in the action, a sling around his one arm now.

A local tavern in New Brunswick, near their current headquarters, has been reformed into a mean sort of courtroom with several of the longer tables of the establishment arranged end to end to create a board of justice seated along it. Major-General Lord Stirling presides over the court with four Brigadier Generals and eight Colonels as the judges. The long table appears cramped despite the length made, what with so many men seated in a line, stern and in uniform. Were it Hamilton’s trial, he is certain he would find himself at least some measure of intimidated.

The judge advocate, who happens to be named John Lawrence, much to the wry amusement of the three aides-de-camp present, swears in the line of judges as the trial begins.

“I shall think it possibly confusing when the court calls Laurens,” Fitzgerald says in a low voice toward Meade and Hamilton. “It shall be Lawrence questioning Laurens and what if someone should slip up?”

“You presume they will call him,” Meade says.

“They will,” Fitzgerald and Hamilton say together a tad too loudly, causing Captain Edwards seated ahead of them to throw a glare.

Along with Edwards, General Wayne sits further head, General Scott next to him and a Captain Mercer beside Edwards. Edwards and Mercer were both aides-de-camp to General Lee. Apart from them and Hamilton’s line, no other witnesses appear to be on the list to be called today, unless some man is unconscionably late. 

“And him,” Meade says, almost a whisper now and surely only audible to Fitzgerald and Hamilton. “Speaking in his own defense?”

The three men gaze to the other side of the back tavern room where General Charles Lee sits at a small table. The witnesses to be called all sit opposite him, so the man and his defense table remain alone, a physical use of space to show the focus of the subject of the court martial.

“He speaks quite often in his own defense, by letter and publication, so why not at his trial?” Hamilton remarks.

Wayne, ahead of him, snorts softly to himself and Hamilton clenches his teeth shut. Hamilton sees Fitzgerald raise both eyebrows at him but Hamilton stares ahead. He would rather not cause a scene and lose his opportunity to give testimony in some manner.

The judge advocate, Lawrence, now turns from the table and walks to one end of the line of seated officers so he may address the whole room without his back to any. The sunlight through the two windows along that outer wall make him appear much a herald from on high. Lee stands up as Lawrence unfolds the paper in his hand.

“The following charges are exhibited against General Charles Lee: First, for disobedience of orders, in not attacking the enemy on the 28th of June, agreeable to repeated instructions.”

Hamilton clicks his teeth having ridden some of those orders himself. He sees Fitzgerald cross his free arm over his chest, cradling his sling.

“Secondly, for misbehavior before the enemy on the same day, by making an unnecessary, disorderly, and shameful retreat.”

Meade hisses in Hamilton’s ear quickly, “I cannot wait to hear Laurens’ account on that point, I only hope I am here as witness.”

Hamilton bites his lip and keeps his amusement to a smile instead. Meade leans away again, quickly stifling his grin. They may wheedle and play some in their office, but now with so many senior officers present, they should remain stoic and proper, most certainly as semi representatives of His Excellency.

“Thirdly,” Lawrence continues, “For disrespect to the Commander-in-Chief, in two letters dated the 1st July and the 28th of June.”

Hamilton, Meade and Fitzgerald all sit up taller at once, as if pulled on a string by their absent General.

“General Lee,” Lord Stirling says suddenly, his voice more commanding even than the charges laid. Lee turns his head sharply at the tone toward Stirling. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

Hamilton purses his lips; as if they expected him to suddenly say ‘guilty.’ It was General Lee who requested this court martial in the first place to supposedly clear his name. 

“The court calls Brigadier-General Scott,” Stirling says then, shifting papers on his desk.

The man stands – tall enough and a solid military presence in his bearing, though he is balding and has side burns Hamilton considers a sight too enthusiastic – and swears in, his hand upon the Bible. 

The judge advocate first asks, “Did you hear General Washington give General Lee any orders the 27th of June?”

General Scott gives an account of the day, speaking with General Washington and confirming the General’s wish to attack the next day. Lee counter questions Scott, asking on the ‘spirit’ of such orders and what His Excellency might have meant in regards to the size of the force met.

“Does he really think to base an argument on the size of enemy troops?” Meade asks Hamilton low.

“What recourse has he?” Hamilton replies. “It was his fear upon the day, too large an enemy to fight.”

“Can he really think to split such hairs,” Fitzgerald mutters, his one hand fisting over his wounded arm in his annoyance as Lee asks Scott about possible restrictions on his orders to attack or no.

Scott replies to Lee then, “I conceived you were to proceed on, and wherever you met with the enemy to take the earliest opportunity to attack them.”

Hamilton cannot help a smile at the expression on Lee’s face as the court nods Scott off and calls up General Wayne.

“Ah, now this,” Fitzgerald says, “this shall be as fulfilling as if it were Laurens.”

“Mad Anthony,” Meade mutters.

“What should you call Laurens then?” Hamilton asks.

“Ludicrous,” Meade replies quickly, “must keep the alliteration.”

Fitzgerald shakes his head. “It sounds not as well as ‘mad’ should, and mad starts with an M, Anthony an A, why should you need you alliteration?”

Meade slouches some in his chair, his expression sulky. Hamilton nudges him with his shoulder. Meade only taps his boot once then sits up straight again.

Surprisingly, General Wayne remains civil and calm through his similar line of questioning as to the orders General Washington gave Lee. However, when questions turn to Lee making any sort of plan for the attack, Wayne’s tone turns noticeably terse. 

“At the hour appointed I met with the Marquis de Lafayette and General Maxwell, at General Lee’s quarters. General Lee said he had nothing further to recommend, than that there should be no dispute with regard to rank, in ease of an attack, for he might probably order on either the right or the left wing and he expected they would obey; and if they conceived themselves aggrieved to complain afterwards, and that he had nothing further to say on the subject, but that the troops were to be held in readiness to move at a moment’s warning.”

Fitzgerald shakes his head in disapproval and Hamilton cannot blame him – Lee focused on a concern of rank and his own authority more than a definite plan of such attack on the field?

Lee attempts to ask Wayne a question to absolve himself, “Do you recollect my giving you some reasons for not arranging a mode of attack?”

“When you mentioned you had nothing further to say on the subject, you said that the position of the enemy might render any previous plan invalid or words to that purpose.”

Fitzgerald and Hamilton scoff in the same moment. Edwards turns his head sharply to them again in clear annoyance. Meade puts a finger up to his lips toward Edwards in a shushing gesture. The man looks very much as if he wishes to curse. 

The court and Lee call on Scott again, asking him similar questions to General Wayne. 

Then Stirling says, “The court calls Lieutenant Colonel John Fitzgerald.”

Fitzgerald stands quite suddenly from his chair with a wince at his arm and a muttered, “best man first,” in some sort of show of confidence perhaps. Fitzgerald, while an excellent penman, rider and aide-de-camp, would not put public speaking upon one of his favorite past times; he is more merchant than orator. Fitzgerald straightens his coat and walks to the front of the room, swearing quickly on the Bible with his uninjured arm then standing at a casual attention as the court begins its questions.

“Did General Washington send you with orders to General Lee the 28th of June?” Lawrence asks.

Fitzgerald clears his throat and stands up straighter as he relays the events of that day. His voice betrays an odd tone as though reading from a book he does not like. Hamilton wonders if Fitzgerald wrote his account down earlier to practice for today.

“Poor Fitz,” Meade whispers to Hamilton.

Hamilton smacks Meade’s thigh lightly. “Shush.”

Fitzgerald remarks on seeing Wayne, Maxwell and Lafayette in General Lee’s tent which Hamilton notes causes Wayne to smirk. Hamilton hardly thinks anyone likely to doubt Wayne’s word on their meeting that evening but it certainly cannot hurt to hear one’s self corroborated without request. 

Fitzgerald adds only a bit more about Lee and his forming of his troops, “before night he would put them in the best position in his power to receive an attack.”

Hamilton thinks Fitzgerald looks somewhat perturbed at only being able to relay a neutral report of Lee’s actions, and not something more damning, or perhaps that is only Hamilton putting his own wishes on Fitzgerald.

When Fitzgerald completes his report, the court turns to Lee but he only shakes his head. Fitzgerald frowns slightly but turns and walks back toward his seat as the court calls, “Lieutenant Colonel Richard Meade.”

Meade stands with a turn and a grin down at Hamilton before he skirts around Fitzgerald and walks up to the long table.

Fitzgerald sits down heavily beside Hamilton in Meade’s vacated chair. “I do not care for such things.”

Hamilton smiles at him. “As we know, but you are free now.”

Fitzgerald crosses his arm over his chest and sling again then they both turn toward Meade as he is asked the same question of delivering orders to Lee.

“And did you write your account down?” Fitzgerald asks Hamilton as Meade begins. “I know you write so much else, why not this too?”

“Did you?”

The glance at each other and smile, the ‘yes’ upon their faces. Hamilton cannot feel any shame, however, as he would prefer his account to be as truthful as possible with so weighty a matter before them. He then turns his attention back to Meade speaking.

“…Lee and inform him of it, to put the troops under his command in motion,” Meade continues in regards to the orders General Washington sent him on to Lee, “leaving their packs behind, to follow the enemy, and bring on a an attack as soon as possible.”

Meade then proceeds about the motion of Lee’s troops, the delivery of orders and the conflicting intelligence about the motion of the enemy or not which Lee seemed in disbelief of at the time. Hamilton remembers the confusion well himself, who had the right of it and who would believe what. Meade relays more, his tone an odd sort of jolly and serious as once that seems entirely Meade to anyone who might know him. Stirling looks slightly suspect at Meade’s manner of address but none of the Generals or Colonels on the court stop him. Meade emphasizes a point on Captain Walker needing to insist to Lee about certain intelligence. He flicks a glance at Lee then back to the seated witnesses, a look that could easily be interpreted as incredulous scorn. Edwards and Mercer both sit up straighter in their seats, displeasure on their faces.

Lee finally asks Meade, “Did you conceive General Washington’s orders were, or the spirit of them, to bring on a general action at all events of the two whole armies?”

“He and his ‘spirit of,’” Hamilton mutters making Fitzgerald grunt in assent.

“General Washington, I think,” Meade replies with a tone on the words ‘I think’ that clearly means ‘I know’ with certainly an edge of sarcasm, “was anxious to bring on a general engagement between the two armies.”

Hamilton rather enjoys Meade’s added cheek, seemly just on the safe side at present. With a glare from Lee, Meade is then dismissed. 

“The court calls Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton.”

Hamilton stands smartly, passing by a winking Meade, and steps briskly to the front of the court room. He places his hand on the Bible and swears to the tell the truth. He wishes in the back of his mind that Laurens were here to see him speak.

“Did you deliver General Lee any orders from General Washington on the 27th or 28th of June,” Lawrence asks, “respecting his attacking the enemy?”

Hamilton stands up a bit straighter, addressing Lawrence. “I wrote General Lee a letter the evening of the 27th of June, by General Washington’s order, a copy of which I have not; but it was conceived in the spirit,” Hamilton adds just a hint of weight to the words, “as I understand, of former orders that had been given by him to General Lee, and was occasioned by an apprehension, as declared to me by General Washington,” Hamilton chances a glance at Lee who only stares stoically at him; “That the enemy might move off either at night or very early in the morning, and get out of our reach, so that the purpose of an attack might be frustrated.”

Lawrence nods, two of the Colonel’s write something down on pages in front of them and Lee does not move at all.

Hamilton continues his report of the General’s plan – Lee to take a party to lie in wait and skirmish with the enemy and provide delay should they seem ready to move off – as Lee watches him. He wonders at the man looking so very self-righteous, as though this trial were predetermined and he merely deigning to allow them the honor of it. 

Edwards and Mercer both swear in to briefly report on the time of night they received Hamilton’s letter. Hamilton wants to make a remark about their army and fight being quite often a duty which requires all hours of a man’s day but does not wish to speak out of turn. He glances at Meade and Fitzgerald, the former smirking and the latter with his arms still tightly bound around himself. Fitzgerald frowns and shakes his head once while Meade glances at Fitzgerald then nods encouragingly at Hamilton.

Lawrence then asks Hamilton. “Did you conceive General Washington’s orders, or the spirit of them,” Hamilton wants to grind his teeth, “to General Lee, were to attack the enemy at all events?”

Hamilton swallows once but speaks truthfully, “I do not. I cannot conceive that General Washington could mean to give orders so extremely positive, but that circumstances, which had been unforeseen, might arise to leave the officer, who had the execution of them, liberty to deviate.” 

Lee looks smug for a moment but Hamilton forces his face into passivity and pushes on. “But, from everything I knew of the affair, General Washington’s intention was fully to have the enemy attacked on their march, and that the circumstance must be very extraordinary and unforeseen,” Hamilton emphasizes both words deliberately, “which, consistent with his wish, could not justify the not doing it.”

Edwards blows out an audible breath of insult while Hamilton clearly hears Meade’s stifled laugh. Lee stares at Hamilton with obvious dislike. Then he makes a note on the page in front of him with his quill, slow enough that Hamilton shifts his weight once while he waits. Hamilton notices Lawrence watching Lee too, waiting the man’s turn. Then Lee looks up again, putting the quill with more force than necessary into its inkwell as he stands.

“Did you either by letter to me, or in conversation with me, communicate this idea of General Washington’s intention as fully and clearly as you have done it to the Court?”

Hamilton purses his lips and keeps Lee’s eye contact. “I do not recollect that I ever did.”

Lee asks one more question about General Dickenson’s intelligence that Hamilton answers quickly, but he sees his remark, his defense of General Washington’s order and intention, remain sharp and angry over Lee’s features. If Hamilton and Lee had not been on true opposite sides before, they seem so now.

Then Lord Stirling closes the journal in front of him and stands up causing all others in the tavern courtroom to follow suit. Hamilton turns around to face him. “Court adjourns until tomorrow morning at eight.” 

Hamilton turns in place and quickly walks back to Fitzgerald and Meade. Meade positively beams at him, “Oh, Hamilton, you sly and charming devil.”

“I do in fact wish I could speak with as much muster as you,” Fitzgerald says quietly, not quite meeting Hamilton’s eye.

Hamilton smiles back at the pair of them. “I merely gave my testimony.”

Both men look at him properly and grin.

“Yes, indeed,” Fitzgerald says with a shake of his head.

“Just your testimony,” Meade says still smiling wide.

Hamilton purses his lips and does his very best to look somber and modest.

“Come,” Meade says, gripping both men by the shoulder and turning them around. “Let us return to Ross Hall so the rest of our family may hear of the events of the day.”

“Meade, we cannot influence –” Hamilton begins.

“And General Washington said he wished to remain out of the proceedings,” Fitzgerald interrupts.

“Yes, yes,” Meade says. “But we should leave before Lee and his aides so as not to start some sort of contest of wits or ire, and you know we must tell of the glares so sharp to pierce skin that Lee gave our dear Hamilton.”

Then Meade walks them both forward out of the back room and through the tavern proper toward the front where their horse wait. 

 

Hamilton, Meade and Fitzgerald arrive back at Ross Hall having taken some bread and cheese from the tavern to sustain them should they miss the lunch repast. After leaving their horses, the men take the steps up the left side of the large front porch. Meade reaches the door first, saying something as soon as he enters.

“I worry at what story he may tell,” Fitzgerald says as he and Hamilton reach the door.

“Do you fear he should speak ill of your speech?”

Fitzgerald gives Hamilton a look and pushes into the house first, leaving Hamilton to shut the door behind him. He pulls off his hat once inside and sees Meade to the left, leaning against the doorjamb of their current aide-de-camp office in the front parlor. Fitzgerald walks slowly up the stairs, likely to the General’s office in the house’s study to inform His Excellency of their return.

“I must admit though,” Meade says to whichever aide may be inside, “Hamilton was the true star of testimony given.” He turns his head to Hamilton and waves him over. “Come, Ham, say it all again.”

Hamilton shakes his head as he steps over to Meade. “Yes, all memorized as I have it, I shall repeat it now.”

“Precisely,” Meade says.

Hamilton turns to the room, Tench Tilghman, James McHenry and John Laurens all within – Tilghman with a letter half written before him and McHenry sealing his own.

Laurens smiles warmly at Hamilton from where he stands near one of the front windows. “Should we fear you set down Lee too harshly with your words?”

Meade shakes his head. “I would wager it the perfect amount.”

“I simply answered the questions given to me with the most truth I could recall.” Hamilton gives Meade a look. “I did not purposely attempt any rebuke. It was a trial not a debate.”

“They can sometimes intersect,” Laurens says as he walks over to the pair in the doorway. “Such as a debate as to the why the result of the trial may even be in question.”

“Now, Laurens…” McHenry starts.

“Now, what?” Laurens says quickly. “We all know his folly, his errors and the lives lost because of it.”

“One might argue he saved lives not attacking at once against a force larger than his expectation,” McHenry says with some hesitancy.

Laurens turns sharply. “You think he in the right?”

“I merely suggest –”

“Suggest that as a soldier, a General, a leader of that battle, he should have quit without a shot?”

“You over simplify!”

“And you speak as weakly as he!”

“Laurens,” Hamilton puts his hand on Laurens’ arm. Laurens turns his head quickly to Hamilton. Hamilton raises both eyebrows and squeezes his hand on Laurens. “We are not here to debate Lee’s actions now. The trial shall rule on them and we are not the judges.”

Laurens’ lips twitch. “You say not to debate? I have read your words, sir.”

“I believe he means you to not crush our poor McHenry because of his opinion,” Tilghman offers, his head still bent over his writing. He peeks up for just a moment. “Are we not family here?”

“Family do not fight?” Laurens says and tilts his head at Tilghman. “Such a charmed life yours must be.”

McHenry sighs with hurt in his tone. “And your debate turns often one sided into attack, Laurens.”

Laurens opens his mouth again but shuts it quickly with a sigh. “My apologies, McHenry, for my rudeness.” Then his eyes tick up. “But I must say –”

Hamilton puts his other hand on Laurens’ opposite arm and turns him around. “No, no. Enough for this moment. Had we not finish what work we have before preparation for this evening?”

“Which, the feu de joie or the ball?” Meade asks with a wry smile.

For the Independence Day celebration that evening, the troops are to form up and march accompanied by a series of cannon blasts. Robert Hanson Harrison showed the three of them going to the trial the general orders that morning so they should be aware. It is certainly to be a grand showing of military and national pride.

“The ball,” Tilghman and McHenry say together.

Their own headquarters also plans to host a ball that evening for some of the Generals, their wives, locals of prominence and the hostess of Ross Hall. The aides, of course, will be required to attend and help entertain all the guests. Though they will only be in uniform and not any sort of formal attire, Hamilton cannot help a bubbling excitement at the idea of attending a ball with Laurens. All of them have entertained guests of the General and the army, held many a dinner or after supper gathering, but they have not held a large, formal ball since Laurens joined them almost a year ago.

“And he is quite right.” Hamilton and Meade turn to Harrison behind them now. “We have much to do before this evening and the room must be reset.” He tilts his head around Meade. “If you two gentlemen are finished with your letters?”

“Nearly,” Tilghman says as McHenry asks, “Should the General check?”

“Thank you, Tilghman and no, McHenry. It was simple enough.” Harrison slips in between Hamilton and Meade, picking up two other ready letters. “We still must visit several of the other Generals about the gathering this evening and –”

“And Tilghman and I are happy to oblige,” Meade says weaving around the standing men to loom over Tilghman as he makes a last note. “There you are.” He scoops the letter away from Tilghman.

“Wait, I must –“

Meade however, hands the letter to Harrison. Harrison glances at it then gives Meade a look. “No seal?”

“Now Harrison, you are well able…”

“But also busy enough,” Laurens says. He steps close to Harrison and takes all the letters from him then reaches over and takes McHenry’s letter just as he presses the seal into the wax on his own. McHenry opens his mouth but shuts it again without rebuke. “Hamilton and I shall see to the correspondence and the rider. You are free, Harrison.”

Harrison nods then turns back to Tilghman and Meade, beginning to list Generals that need visiting.

Laurens steps back over to where Hamilton waits. Hamilton smiles slowly at him. “And which are you waiting to hear on, my testimony or Lee’s behavior?”

Laurens smirks back, clearly pleased at Hamilton knowing his aim. “All of it.”

Hamilton steals one of their small boxes of wax, with spoon and candle within, then follows Laurens out into the hall. Hamilton turns into the small servant’s passage leading to the back servant’s stairs, boots lined up awaiting polish, which bisects the two rooms on that side of the house. He lays one of the clean cloths down on the work table there then takes the one unsealed letter from Laurens.

“How did the questions tend?” Laurens asks as Hamilton cuts off a chunk of wax from one stick. “For a first day, I imagine relating to his lack of plan.”

“Some,” Hamilton says, putting the wax in the little spoon. “But more so on the General’s first orders to Lee and their nature.”

“Their nature?” Laurens says with some disbelief, lighting the candle for Hamilton. “What else could anyone imagine the General’s orders to mean other than what they say? He informed Lee to scout ahead and attack.”

“Attack if needed.”

Laurens sighs as Hamilton folds up the letter. Then Laurens picks up the spoon and wax, holding them over the candle to heat the metal. “We are in a war, I think it obvious that attack be involved.”

Hamilton chuckles, picking out the General’s seal from the box as they wait for the wax to melt. “You are fully aware there is nuance to situation and,” Hamilton says with emphasis as it looks Laurens near to interrupting him again. “And, Lee seemed very fixed about the ‘spirit’ of the General’s orders.”

Laurens frowns, finally pouring the melted wax onto the edge of the letter. “As in, should his words and mind be deviant of one another?”

Hamilton presses the seal down hard in the wax and nods at Laurens. “I suspect so though I cannot claim his mind.”

Laurens makes an ungentlemanly noise, putting the spoon down. “And I should be pleased so.” He leans slightly against the door as Hamilton blows once on the wax. “And you, what were you asked?”

Hamilton turns the letters over casually, inspecting each direction for errors. “I was asked after the orders I sent to General Lee, the nature of their contents.”

“Yes?” Laurens says at Hamilton pauses for effect. “And your answers?”

Hamilton looks up at Laurens. “Why the truth, of course, what else should I have need to relate?”

Laurens purses his lips and drums his fingers once on his arms as he crosses them. Then Hamilton smiles. “I did make sure to mention, as Lee had asked me, that I felt the spirit of General Washington’s orders, while they could indeed leave room for the interpretation of he who was to enact them, could not within any reasonable doubt be thought to mean anything other than a surety of attack upon the enemy in nearly any event upon the field.”

Laurens chuckles once and pulls his one arm free to let his hand fall upon Hamilton’s forearm. He rubs his thumb once over the fabric of Hamilton’s coat. “I imagine I should have been beaming were I present.”

Hamilton runs his fingers over Laurens’ once. “Indeed, you would have.” Then he turns around to face Laurens, his hand falling away. Hamilton holds up the letters. “Now, to the courier.”

Laurens gathers up the sealing supplies, blowing out the candle as they step back out into the main hall and walk toward the front of the house. In the aide-de-camp office, only McHenry and Harrison remain gathering up the supplies of their office. Laurens ducks in, dumping the sealing box and its supplies into McHenry’s surprised hands. Then Hamilton and he open the front door and exit onto the porch. Hamilton looks out at the nearby river, a breeze that blows almost cool upon them in the summer weather for but a moment. Then Laurens touches this hand and they walk down the side steps toward the road where various soldiers unload supplies from a wagon and their daily rider awaits.

“How long do you think the trial to last?” Laurens asks.

Hamilton shrugs one shoulder. “I could not say. I do not know all of whom is to be called as witness.”

“They cannot think to call the whole army and how much time should be wasted on this?”

Hamilton shoots Laurens a look. “You call it a waste?”

Laurens frowns. “I call it a sure case of guilt.”

“It was Lee who asked for the trial to occur.”

“Yes, to supposedly clear his name because he thinks himself so right, and a foolish thing too, because we know the nature of his actions.”

“Perhaps the court will not see it so.”

“Perhaps the – Hamilton,” Laurens gives him a sharp look. “His insubordination in the letters to our General would be enough to require disciplinary action. I know he a General of some tenure, but he cannot supersede rank and the respect His Excellency deserves.”

Hamilton shakes his head, shifting the two of them around a dip in the ground. “I do not say I agree with Lee or disagree your point, merely that is it not better that he get his trial so his wrongs can be more thoroughly laid bare and revealed?”

Laurens opens his mouth then shuts it again with a reluctant nod. “I see your point.” Then he huffs again. “But I would rather our focus be how to recover from Monmouth and bring renewed attack, not Lee and his name.”

Hamilton tilts his head, playing devil’s advocate on. “Yes, but does not every man deserve a chance for the letter of the law to be offered in the face of a crime.”

Laurens chuckles once. “You think to make me in the wrong for suggesting he does not need his vanity court?”

“I suggest the British once would deny us rights so why should we turn and behave the same?”

Laurens looks over at Hamilton, his expression so very fond that Hamilton wishes to grip his hand and stand still and close. Laurens ducks his head and looks forward once more. “Ah, my Alex.”

Then they reach the road and deliver their letters into the hands of a Corporal Smith, the debate ended for now.

Back inside Ross Hall, Harrison and McHenry have removed most of their paper, pen and ink. A stack of books remains on one table beside an open ledger as Hamilton and Laurens walk in. Hamilton crosses to the table, closing the ledger.

“Cabinet,” McHenry says from near the fireplace mantel, pointing to an inset corner cabinet.

Hamilton places the ledger on top of the books and carries it over as Laurens and Harrison move to either side of the newly empty table. Hamilton hears the scratch of the table legs behind him. When he turns back, books stored inside the cabinet now, Laurens and Harrison set down the table against the wall near the door. Hamilton and McHenry pick up the chairs remaining and also set them against the wall. With the furniture moved, the room allows for a good amount of space perfect for those talking and mingling at a ball.

“Though dancing in the dinning room,” Hamilton says aloud, half to himself.

“Yes, the General has hired musicians from New Brunswick,” Harrison says in an answer Hamilton did not expect. Then Harrison’s brow knits. “And the manner of their payment I must arrange.” He sighs. “If you could assist in the readying of the house?”

McHenry nods, following Harrison, “I shall inquire as to the food and drink preparation.”

Hamilton looks at Laurens nearer the door as the other two men leave. Laurens sighs once but he smiles. “That should leave us with the rooms. I know the servants have decoration of a kind.”

“Then we may as well move furniture,” Hamilton says crossing toward Laurens and gesturing to the hall. “We would prefer our guests to have room to dance and celebrate Independence Day.”

Laurens smiles. “Ah, do you plan to charm every visitor and dance with every lady?”

Hamilton purses his lips, standing close to Laurens. “I should be rather impressive now, having been taught at least one formal dance in person and studied others.”

Laurens raises his eyebrows. “Studied others?”

Hamilton nods once. “Lafayette did not come from France empty handed. In fact he brought a book of cotillion dances with him.”

“Ah ha.” Laurens taps his boot against Hamilton’s. “Many lists of turning sets, no doubt some new from the French court to show us meager colonists the way of society?”

Hamilton chuckles. “Oh yes, many passes and turns and hand holds.” He reaches out one finger to brush against Laurens'. “And even variations on your minuet.”

Laurens smiles, looking down at their hands so near. “Dance is ever changing, I know. One must not become bored of the same sets at every assembly. What else should society spend their time on?”

“I should be happy to try each one,” Hamilton says with genuine feeling.

Laurens looks up at him. “Ah yes, impress the women with your practiced dance.”

“I should wish to dance with you alone,” Hamilton says. “Skip such lines and quartets and keep just your hand in mine for each turn.”

Laurens stares at him. “Some dances do keep couples close once begun.”

“Then I shall take your hand and we shall dance once, just we two.”

“Hamilton…” Laurens says with fond rebuke.

Hamilton nods and finally steps from the room to resume their preparatory duties. “You shall see, Laurens. We may be allowed the chance.”

 

Starting at three that afternoon, cannons fire throughout their encampment. The various regiments form up, marching in lines up and down their parade field. The drums and fife play, the men march and cheer – General Washington coming before the amassed army to order the whole volley of cannons and lead the final roaring sound of “Perpetual and undisturbed Independence to the United States of America.” Hip hip, hooray.

Come six, the aides-de-camp wait ready in their formal green ribands and short-heeled shoes in place of boots to greet the guests of His Excellency at Ross Hall. The décor of the house has shifted into red, white and blue. Rosettes and ribbons of their nation’s colors hang over doorways, on the edges of tables and twisted around the stair bannister. The house looks a proper American independence celebration.

The first hour mostly finds the aides standing in the hall to greet new guests as they arrive, many handshakes and hellos, directing servants to take hats and handle any horses. Fitzgerald is not among them, his wound of Monmouth taking precedence over celebration. This still leaves six of them well able enough to handle the barrage of Generals, wives, civilians, and other assorted guests given entry. 

The Marquis de Lafayette is one of the first to arrive, greeted by the General himself.

“A ball which is certain to last late into the evening,” Hamilton says to Lafayette as Lafayette passes off his hat to Hamilton, mostly as an excuse to talk. “Are you not called to the court martial tomorrow morning?”

Lafayette nods. “And I should prefer that to some of the social niceties here.”

“You?” Hamilton says, tapping Lafayette’s chest with his own hat. “A cultured French aristocrat such as yourself?”

“If I become forced to dance you shall see so.”

“Then we may save you from that.” Laurens appears at Hamilton’s side, taking the hat from him. “If we are able.” He smiles, bright and some kind of mischief on his face as he twists around the two of them to divest of Lafayette’s hat.

Hamilton and Lafayette look at each other in interest briefly before the General returns to claim Lafayette for other party members already arrived. Hamilton turns his head to look after Laurens, following a servant down the hall and around the back of the stairs. He smiles at the white stockings Laurens wears showing the shape of his calves. He sighs once to himself then turns around again as he hears the front door open.

The ball properly begins with the opening dance in the dining-room-turned-ballroom. His Excellency takes the hand of Mrs. Ross and leads her in a formal minuet. Hamilton has seen the General’s dancing before in balls they held in his earliest days in joining The General’s office. However, it still brings some amount of surprise to him, with so much of their days spent with paperwork and war, to see General Washington turn with grace about the room and take a woman’s hand instead of barking orders or brandishing a sword. The General is quite a skilled dancer.

“A pleasure to watch,” Lafayette says on Hamilton’s one side. “I shall fear myself to be a shame on him.”

“You cannot be so bad as you believe,” Laurens says from Lafayette’s other side.

“I cannot be so perfect as you believe,” Lafayette counters.

Laurens flicks Lafayette’s hand. “Did I say perfect?” 

Hamilton chuckles quietly. “Perhaps the standards of France are more exacting than we meager Americans?”

Lafayette huffs once quietly. “I do not know if that should save me.”

The violins in the far corner stretch out a last note so General Washington bows as Mrs. Ross curtsies the end of their dance to each other. Then the General gestures to the rest of the room as the music starts the intro to something similarly sounding to a minuet to engage the entire party. Several Generals lead their wives to the dance floor; Harrison requests the hand of a young lady while Hamilton sees Meade already leading a dark haired, homely woman out into line next to General Wayne. 

Then Hamilton notices a blond woman making a clear approach toward their trio. Her eyes seem fixed on Lafayette and social custom will most certainly result in a request of her on his part. Hamilton feels Lafayette stiffen beside him, a smile forcing its way onto his face. 

Then suddenly, before she may reach them, Laurens slides into the woman’s path and holds out his hand. “Miss Burton, a pleasure to meet you when you arrived and to see you again so soon. Would you honor me with this dance?”

Her eyes shift away from Lafayette onto a clearly just as beneficial prospect – perhaps even more so in some sense with the Laurens name being a landed, American one. Her smile widens and she takes his hand. “I thank you, Colonel.”

Laurens leads her out into the line of dancers, finding a space beside Meade and his partner. Hamilton feels an odd tightness around his throat. Laurens and his lady fill out the floor to allow for no more dancers what with the space needed for such a dance. Hamilton pats Lafayette once briefly on the back. 

Lafayette favors him with a quick smile. “I feel as though I may owe Laurens some small debt now.”

“I doubt he would ever collect,” Hamilton says absently as the music ticks up properly into the start of the dance, General Washington at the head now with a different woman – General Greene’s wife, Hamilton thinks.

The partners dance in their lines, odd numbered couples moving first around the evens. Hamilton keeps his eyes on Laurens as he takes the woman’s hand, leads her up then turns back down around their fellow dancers. The smooth movement of Laurens’ feet never faulters, the little lifts, hops and falls Hamilton remembers finding so difficult and absurd.

“Like a bird,” Hamilton whispers to himself, one night with Laurens alone and a dance lesson on his mind.

Laurens and his partner clasp hands and circle in around each other, the other dancers doing the same, though Hamilton watches only the one couple. They hold both hands now as they turn. Hamilton sees the woman’s lips move, saying something which makes Laurens smile and respond so she laughs, her fingers clenching around his. Hamilton swallows once and grasps his hands behind his back tightly. He sees Lafayette’s chin turn toward him out of the corner of his eye but Hamilton does not look at him. 

In lead position, General Washington suddenly turns into a variation on the Minuet Hamilton learned. He twists the arms of himself and Mrs. Ross around so their right arms cross in the middle between them and they grasp their partner’s right hand with their left behind their own backs. It places each partner facing opposite directions, positioned so they may look at each other over their shoulders. It appears particularly elegant and intimate. The other members of the dance follow the set down the line as if a ripple over water. 

Hamilton thinks Laurens and his lady slide into the motion with the most grace and beauty of all, Laurens turning her as if a child’s top, flowing through the step and pull of their arms on each other balanced just as it should be. Laurens leans slightly with her, their chins at the same angle, their eyes on each other and the smile on his face is positively gorgeous. Hamilton breathes in slowly, his hands fisting tighter around each other. Laurens and the woman stop at the top of the room and the set switches, the partners pivoting to turn in the same manner back around again as they came. As the crest of their turn nears Hamilton’s side of the room, Laurens’ eyes break away for one second, at just the right moment, to meet Hamilton’s as he dances, the smile on his face shifting – softer and genuine – so Hamilton knows it is for him. He wants very much in that moment to be the one in Laurens’ arms.

The couples pull apart once more, back into their lines. They step close again, larger circles around their fellow partners until all the couples bow and curtsey with the end of the dance. The lead violin bows a clear final note and the partners shift around the room, new couples needing to form up. Hamilton sees Laurens bow quickly to his lady after leading her off then he turns in their direction.

“I think she may make for you again,” Laurens says to Lafayette, a smile clear plastered on his face when he reaches them. “Perhaps we should shift to the next room?” He holds up his hand in a wide gesture, which must be meant for the woman somewhere behind him.

“Another shall catch me eventually,” Lafayette says as they turn together out into the hall and toward the former parlor, aide-de-camp office, turned social room.

“Better for our guests to be further into their wine and spirits then, do you not think?”

Lafayette chuckles at Hamilton once as they leave the main dancing room. Hamilton brushes his fingers against Laurens’ as they shift around a tight knot of some other aides-de-camp, Benjamin Walker among them. Laurens’ eyes slide down to him.

“You dance divinely,” Hamilton says low.

“Lessons with engender so.”

“I imagine many can be taught and not take to the practice as well nor allow such grace and ease as you display.”

Laurens smiles and he appears almost shy. “I do not think I have had another tell me so which I have cared more to hear it from.”

Then they step into the parlor where groups of people stand and talk, glasses of various beverages in hands. A dark servant stands beside one table under the window, pouring some champagne. Hamilton sees Baron von Steuben with William North beside him talking to a trio of women, one clearly the matron of the other two. Then Lafayette stops them beside Tilghman and McHenry speaking with a pair of ladies.

“Ah, ladies,” McHenry says, “I imagine you have met my fellow aides-de-camp but allow me to introduce the Marquis de Lafayette.”

Lafayette bows once over both their hands. 

“Miss Harrison and Miss Laurens.” McHenry makes a face. “Not a relation to our Harrison or Laurens.”

“Lawrence, not Laurens, as it is,” the lady in question corrects.

Laurens nods at her. “Just a near name we share then.”

She smiles with the hint of a laugh. “In fact, you may know my brother. He is serving among you now.”

“Not our judge advocate?” Hamilton asks in surprise.

She nods. “The same.”

Tilghman laughs once. “And more luck to him with such a task ahead.”

“Indeed. Though he must keep such details of your trial to himself, I see yet so quickly the strain it may place upon him.”

“But is not a trial within our own army folly?” Miss Harrison asks. “Should we not be more concerned with the British threat?”

“It is complicated, miss,” McHenry answers.

“The British are not the only threat,” Lafayette says with a serious tone but a curve to his lips. “There are American loyalists among us and even a difference of personal opinions in the army. To each man his own, oui?” 

“Of course, and one united goal may not always make a united method,” Miss Lawrence says.

Laurens raises his eyebrows. “You do not think an army a ‘united method?’”

“Inner squabbles and errors still must occur. I imagine your officers to each have their opinion on the best way to fight and win,” Miss Lawrence continues. “We cannot expect all men to achieve perfection in all things simply because they fight on an agreed side.”

“No,” Hamilton says, impressed by her. “And we cannot allow such errors to go unchecked or think to wait until some later period when the British threat is thwarted.”

Miss Lawrence smiles at him. “In fact, I imagine our army must hold itself to a higher standard or are we not just as tyrannical as our oppressors? Again, I know not the details, but is this not also a chance to prove ourselves well capable of our own governing?”

Tilghman chuckles. “Indeed but I think you may be surprised at how often such chances of ‘self governing’ are needed within the army.”

Miss Lawrence laughs once, her voice high. “Oh indeed, a rabble we women ought to fear if left to its own devices?”

Miss Harrison gasps quietly. “Ann!”

Laurens turns his head to the side slightly and Hamilton sees him attempting not to laugh. Miss Lawrence makes a face of feigned chastisement then turns to ask McHenry about the previous battle. Laurens turns back and gives Hamilton a look. Hamilton raises his eyebrows back and thinks Miss Lawrence a woman who must often command the room when in attendance of any social gathering.

The group of men talk with the two ladies for what must be another hour. Lafayette is pulled away by General Washington at some point to no one’s surprise. North joins them for a spell, regaling the women with the story of their recent brush with British capture and the Baron’s dramatic horseback double gun firing – excluding some key personal details, of course. Laurens tells some charming and simple stories of London for the gathered party who have never been to that country or city. Then, quite suddenly, Hamilton finds it is but himself, Laurens and the two women alone very near the door to the hall so they easily hear the music from the dining room.

“Have we not talked enough?” Miss Harrison says.

Miss Lawrence sips her wine, pointing a finger at her friend. “You say so only because your story of loyalists in your father’s house was not dramatic enough to surprise our soldiers.”

“It was a charming story, miss,” Hamilton admonishes.

“I have no need to impress,” Miss Harrison says airily but her lips purse in some combination of reproach and amusement. “But Ann, Would you not says yes if one of these gentlemen should suggest a dance?”

“Ah, but they have not, have they, Polly?” Miss Lawrence looks at Hamilton and Laurens. “And we women should not be so bold.”

Miss Harrison shakes her head. “Oh, certainly not.”

“But if one were to be bold, I should think it a strange thing to decide.”

“And what is that?” Miss Harrison replies though her expression is all obviously artifice.

“Why, we have a Harrison and a Hamilton, a Lawrence and Laurens here among us. It is either a most fortuitous combination of names or one that should invite disaster.” Miss Lawrence taps the base of her glass on her palm. “Should I dance with Colonel Laurens, I may accidently call him by my own name or he the same.”

“And if I should dance with Colonel Hamilton, it would fare even worse perchance.” Then Miss Harrison’s lips twist. “But…”

“But,” Miss Lawrence repeats.

“They could also well pair.” Miss Harrison nods in a serious manner. “Two H’s matched and two L’s.”

“Especially two L’s so very nearly the same.”

“Well then,” Miss Harrison turns to Hamilton and Laurens full on. “I suppose it is fortunate we are not so bold.”

“Indeed,” Miss Lawrence says, her smile wide and inviting, “with such politics discussed and such talk of battles and armies I think we women a poor substitute now with only dancing on our minds. So it is good we are not so bold.” She puckers her lips in some amused face and Hamilton does indeed see the problem, as both are more charming beyond what he even before thought.

Then the music in the opposite room reaches an end, claps from the audience and likely dancers as well for the piece played. Hamilton wonders if the women timed their repartee so well on purpose.

“I suppose it should be our turn to be bold,” Hamilton says. He holds out his hand to Miss Lawrence. “I think a swap of names best.”

Laurens shoots him a look but does not appear upset. Then he holds out his own hand to Miss Harrison. “If I may, Miss Harrison?”

“You may,” She says, taking Laurens’ hand just as Miss Lawrence passes off her glass to a servant and takes Hamilton’s.

Hamilton casts a quick look to Laurens as they lead the women through the pockets of guests. Laurens looks back at him, a small smile on his face. They walk into the dancing room and position themselves at the end of the line. The couples pack tighter together now, not the same amount of space needed as for a minuet. Then the music starts to play a cotillion dance – simple sets matched together, sometimes in a specific pattern and other times at random. Hamilton cannot recall the name of this one but the music sounds familiar. Then they bow, curtsy and the dance takes up.

Fortunately, for Hamilton, and Laurens, this dance is one primarily kept within the groups of four, moving around the box shape. They start with Laurens and Miss Harrison turning across the line with their right hands clasped then turning back again holding their left. Hamilton and Miss Lawrence repeat their motion in time, Hamilton keeping himself as languid as possible and pretending not to notice Laurens watch him.

“I am glad to have moved on from the minuet,” Miss Lawrence says to Hamilton as they turn back. “I must confess myself not as skilled to its steps.”

“Nor I,” Hamilton admits in kind when they return to place.

“And yet your companion is,” Miss Harrison says of Laurens as he and Miss Lawrence join hands instead to cross diagonally in their box. “I saw his display at the start of the evening.”

“I have had some lessons,” Laurens tells her when he reaches her side across from Hamilton.

Miss Harrison chuckles. “Oh, as have we, many an hour.”

When Laurens returns to the men’s side of the line, he gives Hamilton a concerned look, no doubt thinking of Hamilton’s less learned dancing past. Hamilton turns to Miss Harrison and follows on the movement of the dance without concern. The ladies are not to know from where he hails and what his past contains.

“I wonder some at so much time spent in learning of dance,” Miss Lawrence says.

“What should you prefer?” Hamilton says as he stops beside her. “I understand women to be fond of dancing.”

Then Hamilton crosses with Miss Harrison again back to his first position as Miss Lawrence replies, “Indeed, but it need not be our only pursuit.”

Then the women link both hands and turn in a circle once on their side. Hamilton feels his heart start to pound as he suddenly remembers these sets; the ladies turn and then the gentlemen’s turn before the moulinet. It is something which will be brief and so very simple and yet it will be in public and it will be himself and Laurens alone. He glances sidelong at Laurens as the women make their opposite turn back around to their places. He sees Laurens swallow once and his fingers twitch. Then the women stop at the end of the bar. 

Hamilton turns to Laurens just as Laurens turns to him, Laurens hands held out palms up. Hamilton puts his hands in Laurens’ and Laurens’ fingers grip tightly to his. He smiles once in either some reassurance for Hamilton or himself, then they turn about in time with the music. Hamilton keeps up on his toes, following Laurens’ lead. He watches Laurens’ face, his blue eyes. Laurens’ smile stays small, his lips pressed tight but his fingers under Hamilton’s press and retract as the two of them move, as if Laurens wishes desperately to pull Hamilton closer. 

When they reach their opposite positions, Hamilton shifts down off his toes for the pause. “Such a simple set.”

“A very fine set,” Laurens says as they turn back in the opposite direction again.

Hamilton hears one of the women say something, a laugh from the other, but he keeps his eyes on Laurens. He feels the warm room around them, sweat under his collar, the voices of other guests around the edges of the room, fellow dancers moving behind them and Laurens’ gaze staring right back with the same elation Hamilton feels. It is just a brief moment but right now Hamilton dances with Laurens in front of every guest – nothing unusual about it, nothing to hide. He holds Laurens hands right here as they turn over the floor to the music of violins. 

Then the two of them stop back in their first positions and let go of each other’s hands.

“You may rival your friend yet, Colonel,” Miss Lawrence says to Hamilton as the four of them reach across the gap in the lines to grasp hands diagonally.

“Oh no,” Miss Harrison says as the four of them begin to turn in a circle for the moulinet set. “I think he would need several more dances to match Colonel Laurens.”

“You flatter me,” Hamilton says with a glance at Laurens. “I could never match Laurens on the dance floor.”

“You do not do yourself justice,” Laurens replies, his wrist touching Hamilton’s where their grouping of hands cross. “I would wager some natural talent of motion on your part. You can move with remarkable grace when given a chance.”

Hamilton bites the side of his cheek to keep himself from giving Laurens the lascivious look he would prefer to.

Miss Harrison laughs, says something to Miss Lawrence Hamilton does not catch, and then somehow they are suddenly back in their first position with the moulinet ended. The strings play a final note as the dancers all bow and curtsey together as the dance ends. Hamilton takes Miss Lawrence’s hand and leads her off the floor.

“Thank you for the dance,” Miss Lawrence says as they stop nearer the wall.

“And for your favor,” Hamilton says.

She smiles back at him. “I should be glad to give it again or to speak more on the progress of our fight. I may not stand on the front lines but my mind is ever there.”

“You mind does seem a most active one, Miss Lawrence.”

“Hamilton.”

Hamilton turns slightly to Laurens near his shoulder. He tilts his head to the left and Hamilton turns back to Miss Lawrence. “You must excuse me, madam.”

He bows once then turns and follows Laurens back out in to the hall. He watches the swish of Laurens coat as they weave around guests until Laurens turns and stops now out in the hall. 

He smiles at Hamilton. “When you said you had learned more of dancing…”

Hamilton flicks up a hand. “Oh well, I thought it might soon become more necessary what with our busy roles as aides-de-camp.”

Laurens nods once. “Of course.”

“A ball was sure to be held soon. We might well have had one at Valley Forge were the winter not so severe.”

“Certainly.”

“And I would not shame His Excellency by lack of proper dance knowledge.”

“It would not do.”

“And.” Hamilton takes a step closer yet still far enough to allow for decorum in public. “I should prefer the chance to share in an exhibition of your own skill of dance and what better way than beside you on the floor?”

Laurens breathes in slowly as he stares at Hamilton, his hands twitching once at his sides. “No better way at all.”

“Gentlemen.” Hamilton and Laurens turn at once to see Harrison beside them, glass of wine in hand and a civilian couple with him. “Might I reintroduce some of guests from New Brunswick?”

“A pleasure,” Hamilton says as they fall back into their aide-de-camp roles once more.

The two of them spend the next several hours entertaining the guests. Food is laid out in the parlor for an hour for those that wish to partake, and the drinks are continually refreshed. A few guests look a bit worse for their consumption but there is no rowdy or unpardonable behavior to be found. Hamilton spends a good deal of his time talking with some local guests, relaying the events of the recent battle and what appears by most to be a draw in the result of the fight. He loses Laurens for a time, regains Lafayette, hides for a break with Tilghman, helps Meade take two young women grown faint to their carriage home, and resolves a minor dispute between Walker and McHenry over the General Lee court martial.

“And who won the argument?” Laurens asks when Hamilton walks over to him nearer the stairs after putting Walker and McHenry to rights.

“It was more a philosophical difference on the origin of the court martial itself.”

Laurens raises his eyebrow. “As in its purpose within the frame work of the army?”

“No, as in whether the current court martial should have arisen because Lee requested it or because the army, or General Washington, should have initiated it.”

Laurens makes a face. “The point being that the clear disapproval and censure which would come from His Excellency putting Lee to trial would be more apparent than what we have of Lee wishing instead to clear his own name?”

“Precisely.”

“And where did you fall in this?”

Hamilton sighs. “I think it matters not as the court martial has begun and we cannot reverse time to change how it did so regardless.”

Laurens chuckles once. “Surprisingly practical.”

“The result shall be the final say on the matter.”

Laurens frowns. “Do you think the result to be anything but his censure and conviction?” 

Hamilton makes a noise of some disbelief then says, “I think Lee knows well how to talk and that many Generals think themselves overly important, so should Lee choose his questions right, he may sway some that sit in judgement to see his view.”

“You cannot think so.” Laurens crosses his arms. “Lee’s behavior and guilt are plain. Any who were present at the battle would know this.”

“Not all.”

“Hamilton…”

“I simply mean that we are not the judges in this instance, mere witnesses, and I know that sound sense and truth are not always held up as the most important markers when things like vanity and status block their way.”

Laurens scoffs. “Lee is not so important as to cloud the minds of our Generals on the trial to completely ignore his blatant inaction at the battle and words toward General Washington.”

Hamilton puts out a hand to touch Laurens’ arm and calm his rising fire. “I only say that Lee has friends and, as Walker noted, putting himself voluntarily to court martial could mark in his favor.”

Laurens scoffs again, glaring at the wall. Hamilton squeezes his hand on Laurens’ arm so the other man’s eyes tick back to him. Hamilton smiles. “We shall see in time but I would rather talk of more pleasant things now than a court room.”

“Oh yes?”

“Of dancing perhaps.”

Laurens’ face changes almost immediately into a smile once more. “You take an eager interest in the pass time of late.”

“Of late or of tonight?”

“Tonight would be on my mind.”

Hamilton’s lips twist and his hand slides off Laurens’ arm. Hamilton meanders around Laurens so Laurens’ eyes track him. Hamilton turns his head toward the front of the hall. He sees Meade and McHenry talking now with three woman and a young man. They all laugh at once and Hamilton knows Meade must be telling some story into embellishment. He spies Walker and North close to the door of the parlor. North’s hand keeps straying over Walker’s. Music still plays in the dining room and Hamilton spies the Baron leading a slightly older woman toward the sound as she laughs with a hand over her mouth.

“Alex.” Hamilton turns as Laurens puts his hand on Hamilton’s arm, pulling gently. “Come here.”

Laurens pulls Hamilton around the stairs, away from the few people still conversing in the hall, into one of the smaller back rooms of the four on this floor. The two front rooms of Ross Hall are far larger than the back two. This makes those two rooms ideal for public entertaining as they are used now. The back rooms are less ideal, the one used as the family parlor and the other as a study. The study apparently found more use when Mrs. Ross’ husband still lived as it shows signs of disuse – a sheet over the tall desk and lines of dust. It now hosts some crates belonging to the army stacked under one window, likely from Caleb Gibbs. Though it is dark outside at present, Hamilton guesses from the only one window at the rear of the house, the light must never be good in this room.

“I am not surprised the General snubbed this room in favor of an office above stairs.”

“Better for us now,” Laurens says, his hand straying down to entwine with Hamilton’s.

Hamilton flashes a smile at Laurens in the dim light from the moon through the glass and the candles lit out in the hall. He can still see Laurens well enough but it should take anyone at the door a few moments to discern who exactly may be inside should they look.

“It is a fine ball,” Hamilton says absently as he steps closer to Laurens, rubbing his thumb over the back of Laurens’ hand.

“A distraction we may have well needed.”

Hamilton nods as Laurens brushes his fingers in the barest touch against Hamilton’s cheek. Hamilton watches the cut of the moon light over Laurens’ features, half his face in shadow.

“I enjoyed dancing with you.”

Laurens chuckles. “But for a set among the whole.”

“It was something.”

“It was.” Laurens worries his lower lip for a moment then drops his hand from Hamilton’s cheek. “We could again.”

Hamilton glances at the door to the study. “It would well depend on partners left and which dances chosen.”

“Not there,” Laurens says, drawing Hamilton’s eye back. “Here.”

“Now?” Hamilton asks as he listens to the music playing in the front room.

“The next song if you would rather.”

Hamilton chuckles. “And what dance might it be? What if I should not know the steps?”

Laurens lets go of Hamilton’s hand and gestures to the hall in some dismissal. “How many are remembering their steps well now? And I am certain we could arrange some sets to make a pretty enough dance.”

“For only we two to see?”

“And should that matter?”

Hamilton shakes his head. “No.”

It is then that the lively piece played in the dining room beyond ends. A low note starts, slow and heavy. Laurens looks to Hamilton and he ticks his eyes down to Laurens’ hand. Laurens raises his eyebrows in question.

“You did say, when we had our lesson some time ago, if I should dance without you that I would take the lead.” Hamilton smiles wide. “But I am not without you.”

Laurens breathes in deeply then holds out his hand. “Then might you favor me with this dance, Alexander?”

Hamilton swallows once to keep his heart in check and takes Laurens’ hand. “Lead me.”

Laurens moves them slowly about the room in time to the music. They start with a simple cross back and forth over their line of one couple, switching positions one handed, then again at the next bar with both hands clasped loose. They step in together, eyes locked and soft smiles, before turning outward like a half twirl into the opposite positons. The music keeps them at pace, slow and formal and Hamilton thinks the room as grand as Versailles.

Laurens then reaches out once more to take Hamilton’s hand and twists them flowingly into the more intimate position from earlier that evening, of their arms crossed at the center and grasping each other’s hands behind their backs. They turn slowly with the music, their crossed arms pushing them on and Laurens staring right into Hamilton’s eyes.

“My Jack,” Hamilton whispers as they dance, following Laurens’ without thought through the motion.

Then they untwist from the set to face each other. Laurens takes both of Hamilton’s hands again, turning them to face opposite sides and raising their right arms above their heads. As they turn under the canopy of their arms, Laurens pulls them closer by their lower hands near their hips, closer than any public dance, so their faces are very near but a breath apart.

Laurens’ lips form a wordless, ‘Alex,’ their feet light and smooth as they turn and Hamilton wonders if he will ever dance so effortlessly as this again.

They finish their turn, arms curling back down to be merely extended between them. As the music wraps up once more, they release their hands and bow to each other. Hamilton tips his head up at the base of his bow to see Laurens peeking up at him. Hamilton chuckles as they both stand up straight again.

They stare at each other, the sounds of clapping for the musicians from outside their room. Hamilton takes two steps close to Laurens, checks the door briefly then turns back and kisses Laurens lips.

“Thank you for the dance.”

Laurens smiles slow and kisses Hamilton chastely in return. “You are quite welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is in the process of becoming a book, to keep up with the progress check out the book website [Duty and Inclination](https://www.dutyandinclination.com/) and my author [facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/DupontWrites).


	2. A Witness and A Waterfall

Alexander Hamilton stands outside of the New Brunswick tavern the following day, arms crossed and boot tapping in the dirt. The tavern must have some local name but Hamilton is not a local of the area and has not bothered himself to ask. At present, he thinks of the tavern more as ‘The Court Room’ than anything else. Hamilton watches the foot traffic pass, soldiers and civilians alike, the tavern at his back. A pair of men in pale brown walk past him into the tavern jabbering about what sounds like cows.

“Lieutenant Colonel.”

Hamilton turns his head around and sees Captain Edwards, Lee’s aide-de-camp, stop near him beside the horse stand. “Good morning.”

Edwards nods once and stands with his hands behind his back. He glances at Hamilton again. “And whom do you wait for?”

“Do I appear to be waiting?”

“And what else should you be doing standing as you are here?”

Hamilton turns his head properly toward Edwards. “You wait for General Lee?”

“Yes.” Edward turns away again with a frown. “It is only the Marquis de Lafayette called today so I imagine their session a shorter one.”

Hamilton nods to himself and looks back to the road. Edwards certainly has the right of it. Hamilton would prefer to be inside the room himself to hear more of what passes but escorting Lafayette back to camp could work just as well.

“You must wait for the Marquis,” Edwards says absently.

“I wait for an end to this court martial and a proper ruling.”

“I would think a ‘proper ruling’ would depend upon one’s view.”

“Yes, the view of the court.”

The two men look at each other sharply then away again just as quickly. Before their discussion can bloom into a proper argument, the door to the tavern opens once more and General Lee steps out. He notices Edwards first, a slight smile in response then he sees Hamilton and the smile falls.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton,” he says stiffly. “You were not called to the court today.”

“No, and if I had been, I would be sorely late at this point, would I not be, as it appears you have adjourned for the day?”

“Yes.” He narrows his eyes. “Then why might you find yourself here now if not as a witness? It is not a theater to view for pleasure, I am sure you are aware.”

Hamilton purses his lips. “My orders are my own.”

Lee scowls at him then marches away, jerking his head at Edwards who hurries after him. Hamilton smirks once to himself as he watches Lee’s retreat; a common practice of his it seems.

“And what did you say to Lee to cause such a huff, mon ami?”

Hamilton turns his head to Lafayette now standing beside him. Hamilton smiles warmly as they walk down the side of the tavern. “Why nothing. He made his own huff quite well.”

Lafayette laughs lightly. “I am certain. Do you come here to play escort?”

“Yes.”

“Of your own volition or on His Excellency’s order?”

“Can I not wish you safe passage back to our encampment?”

“Or could you perhaps wish first word of my testimony and the progress of this court martial?”

Hamilton grins as they stop beside Lafayette’s horse, Hamilton’s tethered on the next post. “I can have multiple objectives.”

Hamilton unties their horses as Lafayette mounts, Hamilton following suit once the horses are free. The two of them turn about then make for Ross Hall.

“Well then,” Hamilton says as they ride. “What of your questioning?”

Lafayette shakes his head but smiles as he does. “It was much as you may imagine, report of my orders and actions while present with Lee’s advance. What did Lee order me, what did I see done, his retreat and where I saw it. General Lee seemed intent upon turning my words to his favor.”

Hamilton glances at Lafayette as a pair of men on foot bow to them as they ride by. “What do you mean?”

“He would ask questions much with ‘did you not’ or ‘did you mean’ in attempts to assume my mind or twist my meaning. He questioned once that ‘Did I not express apprehension for our right flank’ and I said ‘I told him I had heard of some troops going that way and he should take care of it.’ Not ultimately the same when under such scrutiny of a court martial, je pense.”

Hamilton makes a ‘hmm’ noise. “This does seem a minor point.”

Lafayette urges his horse on as they avoid some slower horse and cart. “This was not his only attempt. He would often try to twist what I said or assume I should have known his thoughts upon the field when he had said none.” Lafayette sighs. “He thought to make my opinion his own, I think, to make me say that his retreat was in fact some plan, some attempt of different position against the British when I saw not that.”

“I suspect he shall do such often during this trial.”

Lafayette shoots a glance at Hamilton. “General Wayne is called tomorrow. I should suspect no such tactics will work on him.”

“Certainly not. From what I heard on the day, he will not be silenced with Lee’s suppositions upon his opinion, more like to tell Lee what Lee should have been thinking himself.”

Lafayette chuckles as they turn to make the main road back toward camp. Hamilton follows, thinking about the shouts, which may result from Wayne giving his testimony, likely worse than even Laurens could give.

They ride twenty minutes back toward camp. Lafayette tells Hamilton more details of his questioning, which reminds Hamilton much of how confused and light headed he felt upon the actual day, half from the situation and half the heat, until they arrive at Ross Hall.

“Now, we should speak little on the trial,” Lafayette says as they walk up to the porch.

“Marquis…”

Lafayette waves a hand as he pulls open the front door. “General Washington said he wished to hear nothing on it while under way.”

Hamilton sighs. “I did not say we should speak of it to him.”

“It is his headquarters.”

“And does not hear every word spoken in it.”

Lafayette takes his and Hamilton’s hats off, holding Hamilton’s out to him. “Are you certain?”

Hamilton gives him a look as they stop in the entrance of the aide office. Laurens glances up at Hamilton from one desk and Hamilton turns back to Lafayette. “Very.”

“Ah ha!” Meade says noticing their arrival in the doorway just as Tilghman says, “There is Hamilton.” 

Meade nods and points at Lafayette. “And one brought with him.”

“One with things perhaps to say?” Tilghman asks.

“Do not you two begin,” Harrison interrupts. “We have enough work ahead and shall be leaving this house day after tomorrow. You do not have time for trial gossip.”

“Why Harrison, do you think so little of us?” Tilghman says, shuffling his papers.

“I speak from experience,” Harrison replies with an incredulous look at the pair.

Meade stands from his table. “Perhaps I shall find Gibbs to settle accounts then if Harrison thinks we do not work diligently enough.”

Harrison sighs and turns back to the letter he writes. Meade and Tilghman shoot glances at each other then look pointedly at Lafayette. Lafayette shakes his head slowly. Meade makes a face of consternation while Tilghman mouths, ‘truly?’ 

“I have my men to command and see to after a morning spent away; I cannot spare my story now.”

Harrison looks up sharply and catches Tilghman in mid silent protest. Tilghman sees his is caught then clears his throat with some shame. Meade, tilting his head up loftily, walks quickly out of the room, skirting between Lafayette and Hamilton. 

Tilghman sighs and picks up the letter on his desk. “I shall bring this intelligence to the General then and I beg your apologies, Harrison. You know Meade means best, as do I, if only to keep ourselves informed in place of the General.”

“Excellent justification,” Laurens murmurs.

Tilghman taps the letter on his hand and walks out of the room with a slight bounce to his step. He shoots a grin at Harrison as he turns around Hamilton making Harrison begrudgingly smile once more.

“I think at times they act such to make up for the loss of my own children while I work here.”

“There you are,” Hamilton says. “You cannot be put out if that be the case.”

“Or you may possibly be more concerned?” Laurens says as he also stands from his seat, closing the ledger before him.

Harrison dips his quill in ink once more and smiles at the three of them. “I will decide to err on the side of their good intentions.”

“Do,” Hamilton and Laurens say together.

Laurens walks over to Hamilton and Lafayette, ledger in hand; the three then walk back out in to the hall. They stand for a moment in silence, the two looking to Lafayette in some expectation.

“I must depart.” Lafayette glances between them quickly then rests on Hamilton. “Should you wish to relay the little I told, I see no reason you should not.”

Hamilton smiles. “How benevolent of you.”

“I feel it likely you should have told such even without my benevolence.”

Laurens chuckles once as Hamilton decides not to bother with false chagrin. “Good day, Marquis.”

Lafayette bows once. “Please give my regards to General Washington.”

The pair of them bow back as Lafayette turns, hat back on his head, and leaves the house once more. Hamilton cannot help but feel pleased that Lafayette merely came to escort Hamilton back in turn, or possibly to bask in the interest at his day of testimony. Lafayette does enjoy the attention when it comes.

“And just how much did Lafayette tell you?” Laurens asks as he takes Hamilton’s hat and puts it down on a chair near the front door.

Hamilton looks up at him and tilts his head. “Not much unexpected I would say.” He loops his arms through Laurens’ and pulls them both toward the stairs. “Mostly about Lee’s attempts to turn all testimony to his own side through rewording or misinterpretation.”

“You mean to lie?”

Hamilton gives Laurens a surprised look. “No, it was Lafayette’s account and he would not lie.”

“But Lee might to serve his interest.”

“Do you think that possible?”

“I think he is in a position where a lie may serve better than his truth.”

Hamilton shakes his head as they ascend the stairs, Hamilton’s other hand on the banister. “Though his conduct on the field was foolhardy and possibly reckless, he is still a gentleman and an officer, is he not? He would not lie to a court of his peers, nay, of Generals of the army.”

“I think him a coward,” Laurens says harshly, “and cowards use any means to protect themselves.”

“Laurens,” Hamilton hisses, stopping them at the turn of the stairs with a hand on Laurens’ chest. “You should not speak so.”

“Should I not?”

“And it is too simply black and white, by Lafayette’s description Lee’s attempts were more subtle than such as a lie; to put words in Lafayette’s mouth, or twist memory, phrases such as ‘did you not think’ or ‘did I seem.’ One can make a man reconsider his thoughts or memory if you give them the right prompt.”

“Exactly, a lie!”

Hamilton sighs. “Laurens, you sat for the law; you know how opinion may sway more at times than fact. Lee will use that, he will say such as his retreat was more a plan or that he wished to make better position when others may think him weak willed. Who knows but he what thoughts and motives were his own?”

“His opinion is not the truth.”

“Is truth not subjective too?” Hamilton cocks his head. “Perhaps he speaks wholly true and that he wished to move his forces further on to incite better position for a fight.”

“But that is not fact.”

“Do we compare fact and truth then? Was the fact of what occurred different than the truth of intent? You could argue a yes or no to this in a court room, in a court martial; which may gain the higher importance, the fact of where the troops moved, when they attacked and who ordered such, or the truth of Lee’s intent, his possible plan and what attacks he meant to make?”

“Truth in this sense is not truth but opinion once more and fact should clearly take precedence; the very fact that no major attack was made by Lee with any vigor, simply moving back and back, until His Excellency arrived to make a true battle!” Laurens waves a hand down the stairs. “That is the fact this trial should account for.”

Hamilton laughs, grinning at the fervor of Laurens’ words. “Laurens, you know I do not agree with Lee or his actions.” He touches Laurens’ arm, rubbing a line to make Laurens’ tense shoulders ease. “I simply say that Lee is not a man bereft of a use of words.” 

Laurens nods. “And he thinks a court martial a chance for his words to be heard in certain under oath.”

“A court martial is a wise move on his part as he may sway men to believe his motives, may even try to make other’s actions, such as Lafayette’s, sound to be in harmony with his.”

Laurens frowns, his eyes on the wall. Then he looks at Hamilton again. “I can with all authority tell you that he shall do no such thing to my words or thoughts.”

Hamilton looks at Laurens’ blue eyes, intense like the sky when the clouds disappear and you can stare at nothing else but seemingly an ocean above your head. “Yes, I have no doubt in that.”

Laurens sighs. “Enough then. I shall not debate endlessly but I would hear what else you learned.” Laurens gestures up the stairs. “Shall we visit Fitzgerald and you may inform him too?”

“Is he worse?” Hamilton asks as they start up the stairs again.

“His wound pains him much today. I fear we are like to lose him from our service.”

Hamilton looks at him sharply. “To lose him –”

“Not to die,” Laurens interrupts, “I hope, but I do not know if he may continue to serve with us henceforth.”

Hamilton frowns as they reach the second floor. “Then let us see him.” Hamilton’s mouth quirks. “Surprising though that he found the strength to testify in regards to Lee so soon after such an injury. Lee does inspire the effort of words from others, I must say.”

Laurens laughs at that as the two of them walk down the hall toward Fitzgerald’s room.

 

The following days take the army away from Ross Hall and further through New Jersey. General Wayne and General Scott are both called to the court martial, but His Excellency’s office does not learn any of the proceedings before they must march. Once on the march, the trial is in recess what with the needs of the whole army taking precedence for those sitting in judgment and those to be called with testimony. They camp briefly in Scotch Plains, tents only and Hamilton sleeping alone with the heat of July keeping him more awake than asleep. 

Come the tenth of the month, on the third day of their march, the army stops along the Passaic River for rest.

Hamilton sits in a folding chair near the General’s hastily set up command tent, Hamilton’s travel desk on his lap. He writes a letter to his father. He has not seen his father since his childhood, since before the loss of his mother and separation from his brother. His father still resides in the Caribbean, though not on St. Croix. He hears little, if anything from his father, yet Hamilton still needs to put pen to paper and write the man in the hopes he may hear something, anything, from one of the few portions of his family left. It is rare he indulges himself so but he wishes only to know the man is well. In further fact, Hamilton wants to write, ‘are you dead or alive?’

Hamilton rubs a hand over his face, only two lines of introduction written thus far. “How fare you?” Hamilton mutters to himself. “I am seated by a pleasant river.” Hamilton sighs heavily. 

“Hamilton, what makes you sigh so?”

Hamilton looks up as the shadow of Laurens falls over his page. He sees Laurens’ eyes glance to the writing desk but quickly back once more. 

Hamilton opens his mouth to say something evasive, something true but unrevealing, instead he says, “I write to my father.”

Laurens’ eyes widen just enough for Hamilton to notice. Laurens’ lips part with a breath then he closes them, clasping his arms behind his back. He shifts his weight once then nods politely. “You have not spoken of your father before.”

“No.”

“Is he back in St. Croix?” Laurens asks quietly.

“No,” Hamilton says, “but another island near there, yes.”

Laurens nods again. He pauses, his eyes on the grass under their feet. Then he looks up at Hamilton once more. “And you write him, are your relations… cordial then?”

It seems to Hamilton as if Laurens asks a dozen questions in that one short phrase. Hamilton taps his quill once on his blotting paper, his eyes shifting back to the two polite sentences, the words ‘my dear father’ at the top of the page. 

“It is complicated,” he finally says aloud.

The noise around them becomes more apparent – the camp, horses, splash of the water, someone yelling about rations, the ‘thunk’ of chopping wood – yet it still sounds like silence, like absence, like abandonment, like pieces of a family pried away person by person.

“Well then.” Hamilton eyes snap up to Laurens once more. “If you can be parted from your pen, His Excellency and McHenry have suggested a brief respite from the army to a place down the river.” Laurens looks away with an expression as if such a thing should be a chore. “Lafayette and Harrison are to join while Meade and Tilghman remain with Fitzgerald, so I fear this could leave me alone with McHenry and you know that should not do.” He glances back to Hamilton, a small smile on his face now. Laurens holds out his hand to Hamilton. “Will you come?”

The corners of Hamilton’s mouth quiver as he looks back down at his writing desk. He lays down the quill and stoppers his inkpot, placing it in one of the smaller compartments. Then he closes the whole and puts it on the ground beside his chair. He looks up once more and takes Laurens’ waiting hand. Laurens pulls gently and Hamilton stands beside him. 

Hamilton wants to say thank you. “Lead on, Laurens.”

Hamilton and Laurens join up with His Excellency, Lafayette, Harrison and McHenry on a path which borders the river. Harrison leads the way, McHenry at his side, as he says something about a New Jersey regiment and ‘not a sight to miss.’ Harrison carries a basket over one arm while Lafayette has a bag slung over his shoulder, which makes telling clinking noises as they walk.

“It reminds me much of the Potomac,” the General says as he walks ahead of Hamilton and Laurens with Lafayette.

“Is the Potomac not wider?” Lafayette asks.

“Indeed but it has a similar quality,” the General remarks and his voice has grown nostalgic or perhaps even homesick, “A sort of serenity that comes with the majesty of nature.”

“Not like Charleston harbor,” Laurens says quietly as he gazes at the river too while they walk.

“But can one compare rivers to the ocean?” Hamilton says drawing Laurens’ eye. “Not the same manner of water.”

“That is true.”

“Surely you have some rivers to draw up along this one.”

Laurens smiles, glancing to the river once more. “I am well pleased with this one now.”

The party finds an ancient bridge in need of some repair spanning the river. Harrison suggests they perhaps walk further to find a more serviceable crossing. However, General Washington treks straight across with an indulgent smile at Harrison as he goes.

“What should I tell the troops if you were to drown, sir?” Harrison calls after him.

“Tell them I did not,” General Washington replies as he nears the bridge end.

McHenry and Lafayette follow at a bit of run once His Excellency reaches the opposite bank. Harrison sighs in some consternation, hands on his hips. Laurens grips his arm then pushes Harrison onto the bridge ahead of himself and Hamilton so the three walk over together. The bridge does not give out beneath them. 

As they walk over, Hamilton cannot help grinning at the rushing water. He thinks of the Schuylkill River, battling against the current and the sound of gunshots. It should cause some fear, perhaps, but instead he smiles.

After another half-mile walk, McHenry and Lafayette hurry ahead toward what Hamilton can only consider to be one of the most picturesque places on earth. Hamilton grips Laurens’ wrist in his astonishment.

Before them, surrounded by lush bush and trees, lies a huge waterfall like he has not seen before. The wide river tumbles down into a narrow canyon below, the water rushing loud and strong. Where the river creates the falls there are numerous crags and fissures so the falls appears as not one but many descending to the channel below. Some jagged rocks jut out of the flow while right beside them lie rocks rubbed smooth by the punishing water. A spray comes up from the falls around them like mist he feels upon his skin. Near the bottom of the falls, just where Hamilton is able to see from his vantage point, a rainbow in miniature hangs among the spray.

“Hamilton?” Laurens asks.

Hamilton’s smile pulls so wide it near hurts. He pulls his hand back from Lauren again. “Have you seen anything so splendid before?” Hamilton asks, tearing his eyes away for mere seconds to look at Laurens. “It is a marvel of nature!”

“It is beautiful,” Laurens replies, smiling at him.

Hamilton huffs, thinking ‘beautiful’ does not wholly describe the majesty. Yes, majesty is what Harrison said. It is the perfect word. Hamilton steps away from Laurens closer to the drop off. He feels more of the spray from the falls as he stands near the edge. He looks over and watches the rainbow shift with the spray. The water below flows on through the sharp rocks, white and blue at once. The heat of the summer flies far away now with the cool air coming from the falls.

“Do be careful not to tumble over, Hamilton,” Harrison cries.

Hamilton turns his head back. McHenry and Lafayette sit under a large oak tree, laying out some meats, biscuits and spirits on what looks like McHenry’s coat. Lafayette holds up a cup and gestures Hamilton to return. Harrison hands his canteen down to the men while he watches Hamilton. A few steps away, General Washington and Laurens stand together speaking so Hamilton cannot hear. Hamilton turns back to the falls, relishing the sound of the water, the look of the rocks and the cool sprinkle. Then he turns back and walks over to his fellow men.

General Washington sits as Hamilton reaches them, his back to the oak and the rest of their party circled around him.

“Sit, Hamilton,” McHenry says, drinking from his canteen. “It is just as good a view.”

Lafayette and Harrison flank the General, Harrison fanning himself with his hat while Lafayette hands some ham to His Excellency. McHenry kneels nearer Harrison, tearing a biscuit in half. Laurens, closer to Lafayette, passes a handkerchief toward McHenry for the biscuit.

Laurens looks up at Hamilton standing still before them all. “Sit, Hamilton, or you should block seeing that which we came to enjoy.”

Hamilton chuckles and kneels, leaning back to sitting. “I could not dare take away from anyone’s enjoyment at such a sight as this.”

“It is an excellent falls,” Harrison says.

“Have you seen better?” Hamilton says quickly as he takes half of McHenry’s biscuit. “I cannot think I have seen water inland that is so very impressive and powerful.” He cocks his head as he watches the water. “Could you imagine how many mills could run off a source such as this?”

“I would prefer not to talk of commerce,” McHenry says as he leans back on one elbow, lounging in the grass and biting into his biscuit. “Better to enjoy this place masquerading as spring.”

“Indeed,” General Washington replies, pouring some spirits from one bottle into a tin cup. “It makes me a feel a younger man just to see something like this.”

“Did you see such falls in your youth?” Lafayette asks with genuine interest.

“More that the speed and force of this water reminds me of such human comparisons now lost.”

“I do not think any would call you slow or weak, Your Excellency,” Laurens says quickly, giving the General a reproachful look.

General Washington smiles at Laurens. “You flatter me undeservedly.” He does not appear upset at such praise, however.

Lafayette leans against the General’s shoulder, tapping his cup against the General’s. “If you think yourself less now then you must have been a far greater man in youth than we here before you. You must tell us some, perhaps the war with the French and Natives?”

Harrison chuckles. “I believe you spoke once of a battle where you taught your British commander some of the ways of fighting in a forest setting, he so used to fields as to near lead your troop into disaster?”

The General nods. “It was a different sort of war than the British know to fight, especially with Indian enemies.”

“I should love to hear,” Lafayette says. “After all, we fight the British now and they have learned the woods enough to have less surprises, I think, when they fight us.”

“Well, in some ways perhaps, but we are not without surprises still, as you sure know,” General Washington says to Lafayette, shifting so Lafayette may lean more into his shoulder. “Fine, then, I shall tell you of one occasion.”

“Ah ha,” Harrison says biting into some ham. “War stories while in a war.”

“Do not interrupt,” McHenry hisses at Harrison, twisting his head around where he reclines.

Harrison only shoots him a look and passes one of the bottles. “Drink then.”

His Excellency chuckles then begins his story. Hamilton turns away, only half listening as the General speaks. He watches the water instead, the continual rush of the falls and the changing patterns of white rapids. He thinks he could watch these falls all day, the beauty and power, how the light reflects off the still points or how the green around it frames it so well.

“Here, Hamilton.” Laurens taps Hamilton’s shoulder. He turns to see Laurens sitting back with his knees bent up. He pulls slightly at Hamilton’s shoulder again enticing him to lean back against Laurens’ legs. “So you might better see your view.”

Hamilton feels a flash of concern, something almost intimate with Harrison and McHenry, even General Washington near. But Lafayette leans close against the General, McHenry all but lies upon the ground, his head near Harrison’s lap. So, Hamilton leans his back against Laurens’ legs, facing out toward the river. Laurens pats his shoulder once in a friendly way.

“Thank you,” Hamilton says.

“I think you may enjoy these falls more than any of us,” Laurens says quietly as the General continues with his story.

Hamilton smiles fondly. “I think them a most wondrous sight. The scene it makes is both calm and violent at once, the power of that water, how it has cut through the rock but as I sit here I feel serene and content.”

Hamilton feels Laurens touch his shoulder again, a brief squeeze. He glances back at Laurens as Laurens’ hand falls away. Laurens smiles at Hamilton, hands propping him up in the grass. He looks to be repressing a smile.

“A shame we cannot take them with us then,” Laurens says. “I should prefer to see your face always like this.”

Hamilton chuckles. “In awe?”

“Yes, that, and…” Laurens eyes tick to the circled men beside them. He tilts his chin down then looks up at Hamilton, still smiling. He does not finish his thought.

McHenry laughs at something the General said making Harrison clap McHenry on the shoulder and shake his head at the General. Lafayette picks up one of the bottles, pouring more in his own cup and the General’s. 

Hamilton breathes in the cool air, sees Laurens still watching him then he turns back to the falls. He thinks he should like to build a house here, fall asleep to the sound of the rushing water and wake each morning to the sight of it from his window. 

“Better even than the ocean,” Hamilton says to only himself.

He would walk along the cliffs, view the falls from every angle, see how they should look in the rain or snow. He could not imagine the waterfall to grow more but after a heavy rain it must look immense and frightening. He loves the thought. He wants to stay, Laurens at his back, companionable conversation near, and nature at its height before him.

When the party stands once more, some twenty minutes later, gathering cups and food and bottles into Harrison’s basket, Hamilton has the falls committed to his memory for life. He promises himself to return when there is no more war – or court martial or letters with troop movements or battles to fight – and he may stand before them as long as he may choose.

Hamilton catches Laurens watching him while they walk back. “What?” he asks.

Laurens shakes his head, his voice low, “I only thought I could not adore you more.”

Hamilton wants to laugh. “What makes you say so?”

Laurens glances at the river then back to Hamilton. “The expression on your face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is in the process of becoming a book, to keep up with the progress check out the book website [Duty and Inclination](https://www.dutyandinclination.com/) and my author [facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/DupontWrites).


	3. A Testimony and A Goodbye

The army then moves on to Paramus where General Washington receives an invitation to headquarter at a house known as The Hermitage with a Mrs. Provost. They set up in the house, one of a more Gothic shape than many they have quartered in before. The front facing of the house boasts bay windows and pointed eaves above each set of windows with flowing carving. These windows protrude from the front and sides of the house in an unusual manner. The house is also less symmetrical in design than often found, with a longer extension from the back on the right side of the house and a long, overhung porch along the left. It makes Hamilton think of European countries he has never seen.

They spend two days at their usual work of letters and business, dining with a local family, enjoying the songs of their two daughters – McHenry in particular relishing the distraction. Hamilton observes Laurens’ demeanor, however, slowly inching towards a different sort of distraction.

“I know I am to be called, you again as well.” Laurens taps his quill on a paper, likely blunting the tip. “Do they mean to wait long enough so my memory is dulled by time and thus weakening my testimony?”

Hamilton takes the quill from Laurens’ hand to save it. “Patience, Laurens, and fear not as I think you not likely to forget all you would say.”

On July 13th, to the pleasure and relief of at least one, Hamilton, Laurens and Meade are called to testify before the court.

The three men stand together in the front hall of a local house. The master of the house sits as judge in the local court and gladly gave up a room of his personal residence for the trial, especially considering he is a widower with no children at home to cause disturbance. Laurens paces across the floor, three steps in each direction back and forth as they wait. The Generals and Colonels of the court ready for the day inside, the time not yet the eight o’clock call for the session to begin. 

“Stop pacing, Laurens,” Hamilton says.

“You shall wear a divot in the floor,” Meade adds.

Laurens shoots them both an impatient look but he does stop his trek. In place of his march, he fidgets with his hat, pulls it out from under his arm, turning it about in his hands before shoving it back under his arm once more. Meade gives Hamilton a concerned look but Hamilton only shakes his head. There is no call for concern; Laurens is not nervous, he is eager.

The front door of the house opens without a knock just as the tall clock in the hall chimes eight. The three aides turn to see General Lee enter, a portfolio under one arm. The four men stare at each other as Lee removes his hat. 

Then the door to the dining room opens. “Gentlemen?”

The group files in, hanging their hats outside the door as they go. Lee takes his position at the front once more with his own small desk and chair. The three aides sit in a line of chairs against the one wall, the windows at their back. The court of judges sit arranged around two tables in an L shape, leaving an open area in the middle with Lee’s seat and a space for the witness to stand. The room is smaller than the tavern where Hamilton and Meade testified last, so the intimacy of the room gives them less space between themselves and Lee. Hamilton does not feel intimidated however. It is not he, or Laurens or Meade, who are in the wrong.

Even as they are sitting down, the Judge Advocate Lawrence stands up and calls, “The court calls Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens.”

“Lawrence and Laurens,” Meade mutters to Hamilton as Laurens stands back up again.

Laurens walks to the middle of the room, well clear of Lee but perfectly aligned to stare at him should he wish. Hamilton worries now that if anyone should be thrown out of this court for unruly behavior, it will be Laurens.

“Should we be ready to hold him back?” Meade asks quietly.

“Likely.”

The questions begin in the standard fashion as they did that first day, a question of the number of troops and then of Laurens’ location on the field at the start of the battle. Laurens’ answers are ready and to the point, his reconnoitering, finding Lee when the troops appeared to be fallen back, the enemy near the court house, various orders to retreat. Hamilton watches Lee as Laurens speaks, staring at his papers and barely glancing up.

“I had received a letter from Lieutenant Colonel Fitzgerald, written by his Excellency General Washington’s order, in which he desired to know how matters were going on in the quarter where I was.” Lee looks up now as Laurens speaks. “And added, the General is ready to support with his whole army. I delivered the letter to General Lee, and asked him to enable me to give an answer to it.” Laurens turns his head now toward Lee, a frown on both their faces as they stare at each other. 

“He read it over once and hesitated; I repeated my request, to which he answered that he really did not know what to say.” Lee’s jaw clenches so much that Hamilton may see it from where he sits. Laurens cocks his head and continues. “After the retreat of our troops from the village and the wood, the enemy pursued us as far as the village where they made a halt. Upon their advancing afterward toward us, General Lee ordered the whole of our troops to retreat.” Laurens near spits out the word. “And they retreated through the defile by Wikoff’s House. It was there that I met his Excellency General Washington, who rallied some troops and made a stand.”

Lee crosses his arms, shooting a glance at the seated men before them as though he wants to ask a question or contradict Laurens’ report. However, Lawrence begins another question to Laurens before Lee may intrude. Hamilton has no idea what Lee might wish to ask then, a leading question perhaps about the British numbers versus their own or the placement on the field not being one fit for a fight? Hamilton thinks Lee lucky he did not get the chance now to ask anything ill thought.

“What do you think Lee may ask of Laurens?” Meade says. “How urgently Laurens wished to hit Lee from his saddle himself?”

Hamilton knocks his elbow against Meade’s to quiet him but cannot help a smile. Meade chuckles once quietly and merely tips his chin up in some bemused pride.

The judge advocate then asks, “Was any disposition made by General Lee for attacking the enemy?”

Laurens shifts to grip his hands together behind his back. “I heard General Lee say, that General Foreman was to pilot a column by a road which would lead them to the enemy’s front as they were retreating, by which means he was in hope of cutting them off. That is all I heard of any disposition being made for attacking the enemy.” Laurens’ eye tick to Lee. “And why it did not take place I do not know.”

Lee picks up his quill and makes a note on his paper so the scratch of the quill almost cuts through the Judge Advocate’s next question.

“When General Lee ordered the troops to retreat from the orchard, did he mention any place to retreat to?”

Laurens shakes his head once. “He did not, in my hearing.”

Lee puts his quill heavily back into his ink well so the pot makes a clattering noise. Lord Stirling gives Lee a look but says nothing. Laurens keeps his eyes on the row of men. Hamilton very much wishes he could see Laurens’ face full on and not just in profile.

“Were the orders you heard General Lee give the 28th of June, given distinct and clear?”

Hamilton’s sees Laurens’ lips twist in some attempt to school his features. “I thought General Lee seemed to be a good deal embarrassed –”

“Embarrassed?” Cries Lee in consternation.

“– and that his orders were indistinct,” Laurens finishes with added volume over Lee, jerking his head toward Lee.

“You say ‘embarrassed?’”

“General Lee!” Lord Stirling snaps. “You will censure your outbursts.” 

Lee shuts his mouth with a glare at Laurens. Laurens raises an eyebrow, his jaw tight. Hamilton feels a grin tugging at him but he tries his best to keep his expression under order. Beside him, Meade shakes in suppressed laughter, his arms crossed over his chest looking much like Fitzgerald.

“Please strike that outburst from the record,” Lord Stirling says then nods to the Judge Advocate. “Continue.”

Lawrence asks Laurens more from the sheet of paper in front of him concerning the order of retreat and intelligence on the enemy. Until finally Lee puts up his hand for a question, standing from his seat.

“What point of time was it I informed you that General Foreman was to conduct a column of mine through the woods, in order to take what we conceived a covering party of the enemy in their rear?”

Laurens frowns, clearly surprised by the question. “I think you told me about the time that I reported to you that the enemy was formed.”

Lee nods and gestures in what appears to Hamilton to be a practiced attempt at something casual. “Do you recollect any other conversation I had with you than what you have mentioned, or any complaints I made to you?”

“Does he mean to make himself look worse?” Meade hisses in Hamilton’s ear. “Talking of complaints?”

“He means to shift the blame,” Hamilton whispers back, realizing Lee’s aim as he watches.

Laurens clicks his teeth standing up straighter as he answers. “I think you said that General Maxwell had removed his troops from a ground where he was ordered to remain that otherwise the enemy would have been taken in a forceps. I think,” Laurens says with some emphasis, “you made a complaint respecting General Scott, but I do not recollect clearly what it was.”

“And how should he?” Hamilton grumbles. Lee would seem more focused on the issue of his orders being given, when and how, than what exactly they were pertaining to, be it attack or retreat. 

Lee questions on, leaning forward as he speaks now, “Did you impute my embarrassment –” Laurens shakes his head in obvious annoyance but says nothing. “– to my uneasiness, by having been counteracted by some officers under my command, to the contradictory intelligence I received…” Lee purses his lips then adds, “Or to my want of a personal tranquility of mind?”

“Trying to twist his words or mind,” Hamilton whispers to Meade as he watches Laurens. It is the same as Lafayette said, Lee’s attempts to warp a man’s memory or account to align more with Lee’s own personal mind.

“Or that of the judges with such insinuation,” Meade counters, his voice serious now.

Hamilton frowns; Meade is very much in the right.

Laurens clears his throat then looks Lee in the eye, his voice cold. “I imputed it to a want of a presence of mind.”

Lee’s mouth flies open, Lawrence actually makes a small ‘heh’ noise of surprise, and Hamilton grabs Meade’s hand so hard that Meade whines high in his register. Laurens keeps Lee’s gaze and does not flinch. Lee collects himself to ask another question, but Hamilton barely hears what Lee says. Hamilton thought himself quite harsh in some of his answers, but Laurens is sure to top Hamilton by far.

“Ham, please,” Meade says, pulling at Hamilton’s tight grasp with his other hand.

“Oh.” Hamilton releases Meade’s hand. “My apologies, Kidder.”

“The physical manifestation of Laurens’ words through you, no doubt.”

“Indeed.”

Then Lee taps the end of his quill on his desk with an audible noise, making Hamilton and Meade pay attention once more. “Are you sure I gave no precise order in the manner the troops should retreat to the different corps?” 

Hamilton thinks the question almost an insult, as though Lee would accuse Laurens of lying now much as Laurens had said of Lee in confidence days earlier.

Laurens tilts his chin up. “I never heard myself any orders being given, nor ever heard of any order being given by inquiring of officers.”

Lee huffs, in disbelief or distain or perhaps pure situation of rank from the way he struts about. He turns sharply once more to look at Laurens standing still and straight. His voice is derisive when he says, “Were you ever in an action before?”

“What?” Hamilton hisses loud just as Meade says, “you cannot be –“

Lord Stirling looks sharply at the pair of them and their mouths clamp shut nearly as one. 

Laurens leans just slightly toward Lee as he snaps. “I have been in several actions.”

Hamilton thinks of the mill – Laurens slitting a man’s throat before Hamilton’s eyes – Brandywine – Laurens limping in a field as Hamilton rode up – Germantown – Laurens crying out on the surgeon table – Monmouth – Laurens unsheathing his sword as General Washington shouted commands to form up. Hamilton wants to punch Lee in the face in the most ungentlemanly like manner.

Laurens, however, lays the punch he rightly deserves to when he adds to his reply, “I did not call that an action, as there was no action previous to the retreat.”

Lee takes two large steps forward, knocking into his small desk so it skids half a foot. Laurens pulls his arms apart to his sides, his stance angling forward. Meade claps a hand over his mouth and Hamilton starts to stand up to stop whatever may happen.

“Officers!” Lord Stirling snaps, smacking his hand on the table before him. “This is a court, desist!”

Lee and Laurens both take a step backward though their expressions remain hostile.

“Questions, sirs,” another General coaxes.

Lee and Lawrence ask only a couple more questions each of Laurens, his orders from General Washington and what he saw on the retreat. It seems clear to all in the court that Lee and Laurens should not remain in such close contact even just for questions in the court room now. Lord Stirling dismisses Laurens so he turns and marches back to Hamilton and Meade.

“Now Laurens,” Meade says quietly, “did you think to start the battle here instead?”

“I should have controlled myself more,” Laurens replies with a frown.

“No,” Hamilton says so Laurens turns to him. “I think it perfect.”

Laurens smiles at Hamilton as the Judge Advocate cries, “Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton.”

Hamilton skirts around Laurens and walks up to the open area of the court before the assembled officers and across from General Lee seated once more. Lee’s expression does not at all improve with close distance. In fact, if Hamilton could measure, he looks very much as if he is reconsidering his urging for a court martial.

The questions start much as Laurens’ had – what were the strength of the troops, where did he fall in, what was the situation. He remembers that day quite clearly in so much as how confusing the entire action turned out to be. He sees Laurens and Meade out of the corner of his eye seated close, Meade saying something in Laurens’ ear.

Hamilton attempts to keep his account factual, avoiding any unwanted emotional display, as he goes, “I submitted to him whether it would not be proper to send some troops to counter that maneuver of theirs, and turn their flank: he approved the suggestion, and authorized me to give orders for that purpose to a column on the right.”

Hamilton sees two of the Generals make a note on the papers before them. Part of him cannot help some internal pride and hope that such notes might relate to himself and his military stratagem on the field and not just of Lee. He glances at Lee as he thinks this, noticing the man sitting up more, some look of his haughty, self-possessed character returning.

Hamilton’s lip curls and he says, “I would mention some circumstances that I have omitted.” Lee’s eyebrows perk up and Hamilton hears a faint ‘heh’ from Meade behind him. “The ground in front of the columns, as far as the enemy, seemed plain and open, without any material obstacles; that which was more immediately occupied by General Lee’s troops was something lower than that which was occupied by the enemy.”

Lee leans forward as if he may ask a question – use the idea of this disadvantage to his benefit? Hamilton pushes on however, “But the difference, in my apprehension, was not so material as to be any considerable impediment to an attack, and the distance between the enemy and advanced corps was such, that it appeared to be extremely dangerous,” Hamilton adds emphasis, hardly needed but which he cannot resist, to the phrase, “to change the position by a retrograde movement in the face of the enemy.”

Lee makes an obviously angry note on his page, blotting his ink enough that Hamilton may view it from his distance. He spies the words ‘not so’ upon the page Lee’s writing has become so large. Hamilton cannot help but find it funny.

Hamilton’s questioning continues now onto Lee’s retreat and General Washington’s reforming, Lee remaining at the back to check the enemy advance. “I was some little time after this, near General Lee, during which, however, I heard no measures directed, nor saw any taken by him to answer the purpose before-mentioned.”

Hamilton begins to feel some of Laurens’ fervor and fierceness within him as he retells the day. He sees Lee sitting there, not a scratch upon his person, remembers when he saw him on the field in total want of any direction and only half caring at his own confusion – Washington giving orders instead, Wayne raging, Hamilton having to tell Lee himself to support Colonel Livingston or their cannon would be taken by the British. How many men did Lee fail to support with the troops needed? How many orders did he fail to give? Hamilton feels certain the battle one they might have conquered had Lee fought where needed, had he commanded.

“Were the troops, when you fell in with them the second time, retreating in order or disorder, and in what particular manner?” Lawrence asks.

Hamilton takes a deep breath to calm himself. “The corps that I saw were in themselves in tolerable good order, but seemed to be marching without system or design, as chance should direct; in short I saw nothing like a general plan or combined disposition for a retreat;” Hamilton purses his lips, knowing he should not attempt to sway the court on without his full truth. “In this, however, the hurry of the occasion made it very difficult to have a distinct conception.”

Hamilton glances back at his two compatriots and sees Laurens raise his eyebrows in clear disapproval. He can all but hear Laurens say aloud, ‘we could see very well there was no plan.’

“Was there any body drawn up in their rear to cover their retreat that you saw?” The Judge Advocate asks.

Hamilton’s eyes slide back. “I saw no such thing.”

“Were the orders that you heard General Lee give that day, given distinct and clear?” Lawrence asks, just as he had to Laurens.

Hamilton tilts his head and shifts his shoulders back some. “I recollect to have heard General Lee give two orders: at both times he seemed to be under a hurry of mind.”

Hamilton hears another ‘heh’ behind him, this time from Laurens, followed by a sharp whisper coming from Meade where Hamilton only catches the word, “inept,” before his questions continue. Hamilton controls a grin into a somber expression. He can only imagine how Meade will relate the whole of the proceedings today once they return to their headquarters.

One of the Generals on the court then asks, “What became of the troop of the advanced corps, after the time you saw Colonel Livingston moving to the succor of the cannon?”

Hamilton hesitates for a moment because he knows he must answer prudently but he will also then give himself away in the matter of his own health and injury upon the field; not so much to the court but as to one man seated behind him.

Hamilton clears his throat. “It was after this that I assisted in forming the troops under Colonel Ohey.” Hamilton looks at the General who asked and keeps his voice level. “In the action they had with the enemy my horse received a wound, which occasioned me a fall… by which I was considerably hurt.” He hears the scratch of a chair on the floor behind him. “This and previous fatigue obliged me to retire, and prevented my knowing what became of the detachments of the advanced corps after that circumstance.”

Hamilton dares a glance back at Laurens and Meade. Meade looks vaguely surprised while Laurens appears blank and calm. Hamilton, however, sees the tall, tense set of his shoulder and tight pull of his mouth. Laurens is livid.

Then General Lee stands up at the judge advocate’s sign, a piece of paper in his hand. “I should be glad to know from what point of action you mean, that you thought it would be dangerous to make a retrograde maneuver.”

Hamilton frowns because he most certainly related this previously. “In the first situation I found the troops beyond Monmouth Court house, where I first fell in with them, and where, I believe, they first came in view of the enemy.”

“Did you hear me address myself in person to Colonel Livingston’s detachment,” Lee asks, his voice rising with each phrase as if in some sort of victory speech, “entreating them to draw off either to the right or left, from before the cannon, in order to give them the means of firing upon the enemy’s cavalry, which was ranged exactly in front, and presented a very fine object?”

It is the same as Lee has done the whole trial, speaking his possible mind on the field that none heard then and attempting to put that piece into the witness’ or court’s mind. Hamilton is most certainly not of that mind. “I heard nothing of the kind; for I was not with that regiment at the time it got up with the artillery.”

Laurens and Meade both make a ‘hmm’ noise that even Lee frowns and glances back upon hearing. Hamilton smirks and raises his eyebrows when Lee looks back to him.

Lee takes a step forward, gesturing with the paper in his hand. “Did you not express in the field an idea diametrically reverse,” he leans on the word, “of my state of mind, from what you have before mentioned in your testimony.”

Lawrence shifts where he stands, giving Hamilton a searching look at Lee’s insinuation as to error in Hamilton’s account. Hamilton wants to snatch the paper out of Lee’s hand and call him several worse things than Lee’s insinuation right now that he, Hamilton, is a liar.

“I did not,” Hamilton says firmly. “I said something to you in the field expression of an opinion,” Hamilton leans on this word as Lee had, “that there appeared in you no want of that degree of self-possession, which proceeds from a want of personal intrepidity.” He would never be so imbecilic as to tell the man he seemed in complete lack of fortitude and command ability to his face on the field of battle, no matter what Hamilton should have thought privately. Besides, self-possession means only that one feels themselves to be skilled and in control, not that this also be true.

Hamilton continues on, keeping his voice contained and professional. “I had no idea in my present evidence of insinuating the most distant charge of this nature.” He lets his gaze sweep quickly across the Generals and Colonels of the court to emphasize his point. 

“But only to designate that there appeared a certain hurry of spirit,” Hamilton punctuates each word of the phrase making Lee’s lips pinch, “which may proceed from a temper not so calm and steady,” – Not commanding and controlled like General Washington, not at all strong and brave like his Laurens – “as is necessary to support a man in such critical circumstances.”

Lee stares at Hamilton for a breath then he turns away without comment and retreats to his seat. Hamilton looks to the Judge Advocate. He shakes his head and murmurs, “dismissed.” He looks around Hamilton and calls, “Lieutenant Colonel Meade.”

Hamilton walks back to the chairs as Meade passes him, his expression serious once more. Hamilton stops in front of Laurens making the man look up at him. Laurens’ expression is drawn.

Hamilton mouths, ‘I’m sorry.’ Laurens smiles slightly at him and nods as Hamilton sits down.

“You were injured too,” Hamilton whispers, “I could not have you worry over me as well and it was serious in that moment of the battle but by that time I came to find you –”

“Enough,” Laurens says, waving a quick hand. “I would prefer to focus now on our final response to Lee.” He grins and his voice falls softer. “When he thought you caught in his web and you so able to still inform him of your actual account and his own incompetence at once. My pride now bests my anger.”

Hamilton smiles readily. “I gave only my faithful testimony.”

“I am certain.”

The two turn from each other to observe Meade now under question.

Laurens then leans near Hamilton’s ear and whispers, “I shall not forget about this hidden injury however, Alexander, be sure of that.”

Hamilton cannot tell Laurens’ words to be a threat or a promise and thinks perhaps it a good thing either way.

 

After Meade’s testimony, the three men return to their present headquarters. Their office in this house is more cramped than some they have had recently, of a size even smaller than their office at Valley Forge. Tilghman and Harrison both sit in the office upon their return.

“McHenry is above stairs with Fitzgerald as he was in need of more rest,” Harrison tells them.

“And, how was your testimony?” Tilghman asks. “Cutting and pointed I am sure.”

“And truthful,” Harrison puts in.

“It was all of these things,” Hamilton says with a grin.

Meade chuckles. “And more I would wager. Laurens was close to blows with Lee at one point.”

Harrison looks up sharply. “I say!”

“That is not the case,” Laurens says quickly.

“Oh, is it not?” Meade gives them all a nonplussed face. “Being present I can say that words were not all you wished to share.”

“I did no such thing.”

Hamilton tilts it head. “There may have been a moment of fierce looks, I must comment.”

Laurens opens his mouth in offense. “Hamilton!”

Hamilton puts up his hands. “I did not say you caused any unruly action, nor were you ejected from the court for any behavior unbecoming an officer.” He puts his hands down once more and smiles ruefully. “You did however appear ready to do so should you be given more time.”

Laurens clicks his teeth. “I call myself justified.”

Harrison puts a hand over his face and groans once quietly while Tilghman claps his hands. “Huzzah.”

Then Harrison pulls his hand down again. “I shall ignore all of this.” He then points at Hamilton and Laurens in turn. “His Excellency asked to see you upon your return, no mention of the case as it is not yet complete. Thank you.”

The pair of them nod and turn from the room as Meade slides in saying, “I cannot speak for myself, but Laurens and Hamilton said much to conclude Lee’s guilt.”

Hamilton glances at Laurens who appears smug beside them as they turn down the hall to the back study on the shorter side of the house and General Washington’s current office. He glances up as they stop in the door then gestures them both in.

“Lieutenant Colonels.” He stands from his desk holding a letter. Hamilton sees plainly French upon the page as the General stops in front of them. “The Marquis has relayed to me the happy contents of this letter from Vice Admiral d’Estaing and the news of his arriving on our shores.”

Hamilton and Laurens both make noises of approval; D’Estaing set sail with a fleet from France to join their American cause and they all have been awaiting his arrival.

General Washington hands the letter to Hamilton. “If you could make a proper translation of his letter, Hamilton.”

“Sir.”

“As to you, Laurens,” His Excellency continues. “I require you to travel north to meet with d’Estaing in Connecticut.” Hamilton looks up from the letter. “I need you, and your French, to act as a liaison between him and General Sullivan there.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“I have great hopes his ships will be a benefit to the New England fight and possibly even to New York. Harrison is at work on a reply to d’Estaing and the Marquis promised to write you a letter of introduction as well.” The General smiles. “It seems they are of some relation.”

“Fortunate,” Hamilton says with blandness to his tone.

The General only nods then turns back to his desk. “Dismissed and if you could ask Tilghman to come to me.”

They both bow their replies and exit His Excellency’s office once more. Out in the hall they stop and look at each other. Hamilton glances down at the letter in his hand then up again.

“It has been so long since your duty sent you away,” Laurens says, “I near forgot the same could be asked of me.”

“Yes,” Hamilton murmurs. “And now it has.”

“Something of much importance to our army, the support of a French fleet as we have long desired and needed.”

Hamilton nods once. “Yes.”

Laurens sighs though his expression is not wholly upset, more resigned. He reaches out and grips Hamilton’s hand. Hamilton squeezes back hard before they let go again and step on toward the aide-de-camp office.

 

The following morning, Laurens rises early to prepare for his ride. Hamilton wakes with him, retrieving the letter left by Harrison and snapping at several servants to ensure extra shot and powder for Laurens to bring on his long ride. Lafayette joins them just before Laurens is to depart.

“Your letter of introduction,” Lafayette says, handing the sealed note over. “I gave you all the honorifics and glowing reports I was able.”

Laurens puts the letter straight into his pocket. “Thank you, Marquis.”

Lafayette smiles. “I would give you no less than you deserve, of course.” He grips Laurens’ shoulder then kisses him quickly on both cheeks. “I hope your journey fast and safe and successful upon arrival.” He glances at Hamilton. “I trust we shall receive word from you in one manner or another.”

Laurens nods. “I shall send all my necessary reports, as you know.”

“Oui, je connais.” He looks at Hamilton once more waiting beside Laurens. “Have little despair.” He points at Laurens then with a wide grin. “They may send Laurens back promptly if he finds himself unable to master patience and manner to the level of French requirement.”

“Marquis!” Laurens says indignantly.

Lafayette grins. “I but jest.”

“Do you now?” Hamilton says with reproach.

Lafayette touches both their shoulders once more and squeezes. “Oui, mes chers. I shall leave you your privacy.” Then he turns and exits the aide office, closing the door behind him.

Hamilton stares at the door thinking on Lafayette’s turn of phrase and the precision of his eye.

“Alexander?”

Hamilton looks back to Laurens. He forces out a wide smile. “Well, I shall wish you a safe ride as well.” He steps closer and touches Laurens’ cheek. “While I would wish you here, I am proud of the honor of such a mission falling to you.”

“If not me it would have been yourself, we the two best with French.” Laurens runs his hand down Hamilton’s other arm, twisting their fingers together.

Hamilton nods. “And Tilghman certainly unable to be spared.”

“Exactly so.” Laurens makes a face. “And I to leave without knowing the results of the trial.”

Hamilton chuckles. “Most certainly the worst aspect of this task.”

“Indeed.” Laurens nods. “I expect your pen upon the subject.”

“Ah, but I suspect,” Hamilton taps his finger tip over Laurens’ lips, “it shall be no more than a month before your return and you may learn in person.”

“But a month?” Laurens wraps his other arm around Hamilton’s waist, pulling them closer and causing Hamilton to slide his hand higher up Laurens’ cheek. “You were gone three yourself.”

“Near three and I was ill for much of them keeping me away.”

“There can be no certainty of my time away,” Laurens says softly, his head dipping down so his words ghost over Hamilton’s forehead.

Hamilton wants to close his eyes, let Laurens whisper words over his skin. Hamilton breathes out slowly and shakes his head once. “No, we cannot, but I will choose cheer in this moment and think you back to us – to me – sooner.” He tips up his head so his lips brush Laurens’. “I would rather not think of you gone at all but instead this close to me.”

Laurens smiles then presses his lips into a kiss over Hamilton’s. “As would I.” He kisses Hamilton again. “But I am as committed to my duty as I am to you.”

“I would not have you otherwise.”

They grin at each other. Then Laurens sighs briefly. “A shame we could not be sent together.”

Hamilton huffs. “The General would never spare two aides such.”

“No.” Laurens nods as his one hand slides up to run over Hamilton’s hair, strands twisting out of place. Hamilton closes his eyes, focusing on the feel of Laurens’ fingers over his hair, brushing his brow.

“Jack?”

“Alex?”

Hamilton opens his eyes. “If you should encounter battle on your mission, remember what I said to you. Remember the heart here that cares for you.”

Laurens pulls his hand down from Hamilton’s brow and grips his chin, pulling Hamilton close again for a hard kiss. Hamilton breathes fast through his nose and kisses back, traps Laurens’ lips between his, locks away the memories of Laurens’ taste, his touch, the fit of his lips and the angles of his body aligned with his.

Laurens pulls back slightly then to whisper, “I remember, I shall.”

“Good.” Hamilton opens his eyes, only a little surprised at their being closed a second time. “I shall do you proud here as well, trapped with pen and paper only.”

Laurens chuckles. “Good.”

Hamilton gives him a look but keeps his smile still. He kisses Laurens once more then sighs.

“Yes,” Laurens says, “I must be on my way.” 

He runs a line with his fingertips down the end of Hamilton’s face and over his jaw; then squeezes their joined hands once before pulling his hand away so he may cup both of Hamilton’s cheeks. He leans in and kisses Hamilton hard and deep once more – like sun bursts – so when he pulls back Hamilton stands breathless.

“Adieu,” Laurens says as he drops his hands. “Mon esprit et ma belle, mon Alexander.”

Hamilton smiles wide as Laurens steps to the door, “Adieu, mon fringant chéri, John.”

 

One month later on the 12th of August, Alexander Hamilton writes to John Laurens:

_My dear Laurens,_

_You will be most pleased to hear my news of the conclusion of the court martial of General Lee turning in much the manner we would have wished; as you may infer from my words, a guilty verdict put down by the court. I can promise you now that for at least these next twelve month, General Charles Lee will no longer serve with the Continental Army of the American States._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is in the process of becoming a book, to keep up with the progress check out the book website [Duty and Inclination](https://www.dutyandinclination.com/) and my author [facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/DupontWrites).

**Author's Note:**

> This series is in the process of becoming a book, to keep up with the progress check out the book website [Duty and Inclination](https://www.dutyandinclination.com/) and my author [facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/DupontWrites).


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